A Toon in Cog's Clothing
by Acyrotin
Summary: A Reboot of my former 'Harassment in the Workplace' story. A Toon has a curiosity for the cogs, and would be willing to do anything to learn about them. Will she give up all she knows to learn about them? Will she even end up joining their ranks, and forsaking all which toons hold dear?
1. Contractual Obligations

**Author's Notes:** Man, it's felt like some time since I've touched Toontown or written anything for my old toon, Miss Fancy Petalbubble. Getting into Toontown Rewritten has reignited the spark I have for the world and my character, so I thought it would be the perfect time to dust off my favorite little toon and rewrite/update her story. I will be attempting to work on plot/pacing issues I had with my former attempt at the story, and possibly add more to it as well!

Rated T for a bit of violence, both toonish and non. I don't known Toontown, the Cogs or any of it.

* * *

Miss Fancy Petalbubble was an odd toon. Oh, she looked perfectly normal, by toon standards. A cat of average height, with fur the color of a blushing coral and dressed in an aqua blouse and skirt that went well with her sky colored eyes. Her paws were hidden beneath simple white socks and little black dress shoes, her hands clad in the standard white gloves. She, for all intents and purposes, looked normal. But it was beneath that cartoonish facade of hers that made her so...peculiar.

You see, she was fascinated by the cogs. Those tall, intimidating metal forms clad in dull, uncomfortable suits that knew how to turn a colorful world to grey and an equally colorful toon to green...she found them fascinating. While other toons like the researchers and professors, might've shared her interest, their ultimate desire with their research was what set them apart. Those that researched cogs, the well respected, well-learned types, only really wanted to learn how to make them blow up faster. Sure, they wanted to look into their factories and their buildings, but never did they question anything beyond 'Can we get rid of it?'

Miss Fancy, on the other hand, did not have such a short field of vision regarding her research. She wanted to look deeper, question things no others did, learn what no others bothered to. Did the cogs eat? Sleep? Did they have homes? Did they have lives outside of their business, or were they constantly working? Did they all have individual personalities, names, mindsets? Or were they all just mindless drones? She wanted to get in their heads, know what made them tick.

Her fascination started with simple questions such as those, questions no person who had studied cogs could give answers for. Then came the tinkering.

You know how battles work on the streets of Toontown? You initiate a battle with a cog, beat them, they explode. Well, the various bits and parts of them are left in piles along the street. Every toon is supposed to be responsible for cleaning up after their battles. A simple porta-hole to the recycling center and it's all well and good. Except not every toon goes with those guidelines. Safe to say, it's not all that difficult to gather parts and pieces to look over and study.

Miss Fancy had a knack for tinkering and dealing with machines. She would've happily ventured into the realms of helping to create new gadgets and gizmos for toons had her fascination for their corporate foes not gotten hold of her first. Now, as it was, where gadget designs and half-built machines might've lain strewn about her home, there were presently scraps and parts of cogs. Everything from cranial units, portions of endoskeletons and wiring, anything that made up a cog now splayed across the floors and shelves of her small two room house.

There, now, she was hunched over her desk, tired eyes squinting as she carefully threaded cloth together. Sewing was not her primary skill, by far, but she had been taking classes on her off hours. She needed to in order for this latest experiment to work out like she hoped it would. It was such agonizing work, trying to rebuild the cloth suits of her exploded foes. After all, explosions made finding the cloth without singe and scorch marks far harder of a hunt than finding the pieces and parts of a cog. She pulled the last of the thread through, tying it off and looking at her handiwork. It had taken time, but there it was. The jacket of the suit, the last piece of clothing she needed. A gloved fist rubbed at her eye as she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. Her arms stretched high over her head, standing on her tip toes as she uttered a squeaky meow, the ache of sitting too long was stretched out of her system. All at once, her arms slumped down and she sighed, collecting the jacket and bringing it over towards the form currently resting upon her couch.

As she saw it, her tinkering had reached its limitations. If she wanted to learn more, she would have to take the next step: Speaking to a cog outright. Attempting to casually stroll up to a cog on the street or at an HQ was moronic. The last thing she needed was the Toon Resistance getting suspicious and start sticking their noses (or beaks, in some cases) in her business. So, the only feasible option was to reassemble a cog right there in her home and attempt to communicate with it there. It was just as mad as walking up to one, but at least she wouldn't have other toons to worry about ratting her out.

It had been a relatively easy decision of what kind of cog to rebuild for the occasion. Bossbots were, as their name would imply, too bossy and would certainly not be willing to give anything when their primary goal was to take. Cashbots wouldn't do anything if the outcome wasn't going to be profitable. Lawbots were sticklers for the rules, and getting anything out of them would be challenging, if not downright impossible. So, that left the Sellbots, the deal-makers. Choosing which one of the models from this branch, however, was harder. It had to be something easily accessible, so it couldn't have been any of the top tier makes. She couldn't pick something on the lowest tiers, because she had to get someone with enough authority to reach through to higher-ups if she could get on civil terms with them. Ultimately, she chose the 'Mover & Shaker' model. Middle tier, had their own field offices so they obviously had plenty of sway in the corporate ladder.

Right now, the lifeless cog was just...sitting there on her couch. Mostly assembled and dressed, sporting that ever-unnerving smile that one could swear was permanent. She had considered finishing up the 'project' then. It would only be another hour, maybe two at most. Her eyes wandered to her window, watching as the sun out in the sky seemed to heave a yawn out of its faceless glowing form before it zipped down beneath the horizon. Moments later, the night sky dropped down like a drawn curtain, with the moon bouncing up and the stars flickering as they turned on. It was late. As reluctant as she was to leave her project alone with it so close to completion, she would've been better off being awake and alert when she powered it up for the first time. If not to fight it, then to have the reaction time to dive out of the way if it exploded. She looked the bot over one last time before sighing, front hunching over as she shuffled unenthusiastically off to bed.

* * *

Come morning, announced with the tweeting of birds and the familiar flute 'William Tell Overture' music that came from somewhere and nowhere all at once, the toonish feline was getting right to work. All wires were tucked, all bolts tightened, the battery charged, all the last minute touches and assembly done. She teleported briefly from the home after accomplishing everything, making sure her pockets were full of gags...just in case.

Cogs weren't designed to boot back up. Sure, they had their memory and their black box features and what have you. It was as if, in mid-production, they had stopped just shy of adding a restart button. She essentially had to manually jump start the cog back to life, with a little help from her pet electric amore eel. Who said electric pets weren't helpful?

The toon stumbled back as the robotic form spasmed, twitching as its systems started up and focused on making sure every component and piece of hardware was functioning properly. She watched with anxious anticipation as the slim form went still again...then she found herself staring at a pair of mix-matched eyes. Optic parts that were in decent condition were difficult to find, a matching pair was almost impossible. So a mixed pair of chestnut brown and steel blue eyes stared at her with blank confusion, the smile melting off of the robotic features and morphing to a tight lipped line. The Mover & Shaker's gaze briefly darted, a brief sweep taken of the location it found itself in. The various bits of associates and other corporate fellows were, understandably, enough to cause a look which she wasn't entirely sure if it was panic or anger. Perhaps both. It intensified once he realized he didn't have the usual armament of green-inducing gear that cogs had on their persons.

"Now, now, I didn't destroy any of these individuals. I merely salvaged these parts from the scraps left by other toons' battles." Miss Fancy began as the suit-clad robot unsteadily rose to his feet. "I'm researching, you see. Your kind are terribly ill understood by toons. We know very little about how you work or even why you are the way you are. I took it upon myself, for at least the advancement of my own education, to understand more about the cogs." She started to step back, and it began to move forward. She'd take a step back, and it would cover twice her steps with one good stride of its legs. She lifted her hands up, open and showing she had nothing in hand as she found herself with her back to her striped wall. "So I rebuilt you from all the various pieces and parts I could find in the hopes of...negotiating, perhaps coming to an arrangement."

That stopped the plaid suit wearing individual halt in its tracks. Miss Fancy looked up towards its face, noting the subtle twitch of the eyes as they focused on her, searching her for her intentions. She inwardly grinned, knowing she had to have hooked some small segment of interest with those magic words. "Please, sir? I would not have gone out of my way to rebuild someone like you if I was not wholly serious in my interest." It was a fair point, one that made the slender being of metal sink back onto the heels of its black business shoes as it considered the situation. "First of all, formalities are in order, yes? I am Miss Fancy Petalbubble, though you may refer to me as 'Miss Fancy' for the sake of saving time. Do you have a name to which I could refer to you by?" She offered a hand, extending towards it. The cog watched her warily, understandably perplexed by the situation it found itself in. And yet, one could swear there was a hint of curiosity behind those mechanical eyes.

The cool touch of metal seeped through her glove as her hand was grabbed and held in a firm handshake. "Miss Fancy, you may refer to me as 'Arthur'." There was a professional air to its...no, _his_ voice. As if there would be anything but professionalism from a cog. "Though the circumstances of this meeting are peculiar, the fact you have reassembled me, though I use that term loosely, has warranted that I at least entertain your interest to negotiate."

Miss Fancy offered him a smile as he released her hand, hiding the fact she could feel a dull, aching pulse in her palm and fingers. The big metal businessman had a very strong-gripped handshake. "At least it's something. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arthur. Why don't we sit down and we'll have our discussion?" She swept her arm to gesture to the pair of chairs flanking either side of a table. "I apologize for this being very different from where you may be used to having meetings. But I am working with what resources I have available here." They took their seats, the little pink cat biting back a laugh at the sight of Arthur trying to sit comfortably in a chair made for much smaller creatures. At least it seemed capable of supporting the robot's weight.

She crossed her ankles as she sat politely across from him, smiling as she clasped her hands together. "So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? I want to learn more about the cogs. I want to learn as much as possible about them. Not in a 'learn about ways to turn you into zombies for games or blow you up' sort of way, but a...general way. I want to look behind the scenes, see how it all works."

"Why?" It was a simple, but sufficient question. The toon cocked her head, choosing her words carefully as she answered.

" Toontown is grand, full of zaniness and a controlled chaos that your sort absolutely detest. But we have one small snippet of common ground, toons and cogs: We detest change. Anything that is too far out of our little realms of normalcy are to be stamped out. I find it a wasted opportunity. We could learn so much. For as much as toons can whine and complain, your kind are incredibly efficient, hardworking and manage to keep everything running smoothly even despite our interference. While toons can keep going as well, we don't have as many 'big' targets for you all to attack that would cause us to need time to recover, as I'm sure you all have noticed. I find it fascinating. I want to do what few, if any other toons have attempted: I want to learn more about the cogs themselves. I want to understand your perspectives, understand how your corporate ladders work. I'd like to get the chance to see behind the scenes, as it were."

Arthur sat there, legs crossed and hands folded on his knees, back straight and tense in the sort of position you'd expect from any professional dealing with a meeting. "You're essentially requesting permission to see what the life of a cog is like." A slender brow quirked upwards.

"That's the gist of it."

"And what are you planning on offering in return for this opportunity?"

"You are talking to a toon who is willingly sitting here talking about wanting to make a deal with cogs. What do you think I could offer?" She was given a look. The feline's sky blue eyes rolled. "Information. I can give you information about the toons. Prime buildings to take over, best place to deal with the toons."

"Is that all?"

"I can give more if you can secure me enough time to do my research."

"How much time are you wanting?" Arthur inquired, his arms lifting and folding against his chest.

"A month." Her nose crinkled at the smirk on his face. "I'll give the cogs information on how to get into the central playground." Suddenly, she was the one smugly smirking. "What's the matter? Don't find that funny now?"

"..." Arthur leaned back in his chair, as much as he was able to considering its size. "I will have to obtain approval from my boss before I can agree to the terms. Which means I will need to return to HQ and set up a meeting with him. In fact, he may request meeting with you directly."

"And how do I know that you aren't going to just run off and not come back?" The Mover & Shaker's mouth opened to form a response, but promptly closed it when none came to him. He watched as the toon held up a finger, indicating to wait a moment as she rose from her chair and disappeared into the other room of her house. When she returned, she had paper and a pen in hand. A cog pen, commonly found amongst the junk heaps on the streets. She sank back into her seat and set them down on the table between them. "I want a written contract."

"Over terms that-"

"No. I want a contract dictating that if I let you go, you will arrange a meeting with your boss. If he requests to meet me directly, then you will notify me as soon as possible with what means you can manage. I want this contract to state that I will be under your protection when and if I have to attend this meeting. I am not to be greened by other cogs, nor am I to be captured. I will attend unarmed, and I will discuss my terms civilly. For the matters of my research regarding the cogs, if meeting me is a requirement by your boss, we will go over the terms again there and come to a decision then. If my request is declined, then I will be safely escorted out onto the nearest toon street and be allowed to walk away." She held out the pen expectantly, ignoring the way he looked at her as though she was saying the most preposterous things. "Arthur, I did rebuild you and bring you back from the dead. To put it bluntly: You owe me. and I do not have enough trust in you to think you won't walk me into a trap or not return. So, I'm covering all my bases by making sure you're contractually obligated to speak to me again. I figure it's the only way cogs may honor an agreement."

"..." Mix-matched eyes blinked owlishly at her, before he plucked the pen from her. "Color me impressed, Miss Fancy. It's surprising to hear a toon being so thorough and using such business practices." He began to write, writing mechanically clean and precise and yet still held the style of handwriting. It was simple and subtle, but the toon wore a tiny smile upon her muzzle as she watched him write. He handed it off to her after a point, and she carefully read over each little word printed. No fine print was going to be left overlooked. He signed first, with her urging, and she followed suit. "It seems our business, for the time being, is concluded."

"Indeed, it appears so. If you follow me, I'll show you out so you can start your return back to headquarters." Miss Fancy hopped up onto her feet, waiting until he had pulled himself free of the chair and tucked the contract carefully away in the inner pocket of his jacket before she led him to the door. "Watch your head." She warned, watching as the cog had to practically double over in order to fit through the door of her estate.

As he straightened up to his imposing height and smoothed out the wrinkles of his suit, he eyed the simple but colorful landscape around her home. "It was an...interesting experience talking to you, Miss Fancy. I will let you know what happens once I speak to the V.P."

"Alright. It was a pleasure meeting you, Arthur. Do not take too long in getting back to me, if you can." There was another painful handshake, and then there he went, flying away into the sky and off to Sellbot HQ. Miss Fancy stood there, watching until her eyes could no longer see him in the distance. With no sight of him, she let out a sigh and mumbled under her breath. "He better get back to me or I'll hunt him down and turn him into a heap of parts myself..."


	2. A Deal Too Good to Resist

It had been close to a week since she had last seen the sellbot she had reassembled. Miss Fancy's hope that he would return had begun to wane, and in its place worry began to bloom. Arthur knew where she lived. She was sure he could trace his flight pattern right back to her estate, and that meant he could bring company. It wouldn't be surprising if it happened. Every day that passed made her check out her windows more often when she was at home, and tense all the more whenever she returned from visiting town.

Approximately a week since her acquaintance had left, there was a knock at the door. A firm thud of metal against wood, loud and sudden enough to start the sleeping cat right out of her purple bed and onto the carpet of her bedroom. "Ow." Miss Fancy grunted, peeling herself off of the ground and stumbling sleepily up onto her feet. "Coming! Coming, hold on a minute, please!" She called, rushing to make herself look presentable and awake. One hand busied itself with running a comb through her fur while the she bounced on one foot and struggled to tug on one of her shoes and having to repeat the whole process for the other side. The brush was tossed over her shoulder and hands quickly smoothed out any wrinkles in her blouse and skirt as she stepped over the pieces and parts of cogs still covering the floor of her home.

"I apologize for the wait-" She began, pausing as she found herself staring at the plaid covered middle of one towering individual. She hesitantly peered out from the doorway to see the face of the individual at her door. Her eyes widened, gleaming with excitement as a smile graced her muzzle. "Hello, Arthur. Am I to assume that your return means you have news regarding our arrangement? Good news, I hope?"

The Mover and Shaker stepped back so she could venture out of her toon home and they could both comfortably see each other out in the open. "As I suspected, my boss wishes to have a meeting with you directly." He answered, arms idly folding behind his back. "Today, as soon as possible."

"It seems rather short-notice. I would've thought cogs would send something ahead of time to confirm a meeting." Miss Fancy was quick to point out, her fingers entwining together and hanging in front of her in a calm, relaxed fashion.

"There have been intense debates over what to do with you and your proposal in the past week. The debates only came to an end today, and he is free for the next few hours. It was deemed best to take you to meet him while the opportunity was available, for it'll be a challenge to attempt to schedule a meeting at a later date. He figured you would not turn down the chance."

"I would normally state something about being mindful regarding what assumptions you make of toons. But, in this particular case, he is right. I will not waste the opportunity, especially if it really is that difficult to obtain a meeting with him." Her fingers busied themselves by tugging her gloves up, making sure they were securely on her hands. "So how am I to be transported there?"

"I am to carry you and fly you there." Arthur answered, face as neutral and hard to read now as you'd expect from a robot. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed by the fact he had to play the role of 'transportation'. Miss Fancy gave a nod, and gestured back into her home.

"Let me empty out my gags and feed my eel, then we can leave." She returned inside, keeping the door open to let him see that she was indeed emptying her toonish pockets. The arrangement of gags were soon laid out on her desk, the eel was fed and the coral colored cat was scampering out of her home. The door swung shut behind her, and a zig-zagged key was collected from beneath the welcome mat to lock it. Just in case. "Alright. I'm ready. So how are you going to-" She didn't even get her words out before she was picked up by strong metal arms, which mechanically moved to pull her up against his chest. Well then. She sputtered a bit, hands folding together and resting upon her collarbone, not sure whether she should cling to him or not. "Not exactly professional." She mumbled under her breath.

"There is no 'professional' way to carry someone." Arthur commented, seeming unfazed. She had to concede to that point. No matter what ways she thought of, there really wasn't a professional way to carry someone for a situation like this. "Try to limit how much you move." He stated as his propeller extended from his cranial unit and began to spin. She looked down as she felt him lift, finding the ground beginning to drift further away from their feet as he ascended. Soon her estate was fading into the distance and the faint outline of toontown's buildings were visible below.

"You have a nice view up here." Miss Fancy broke the silence that settled between them, figuring she should try to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. "I mean, I know it's probably not a good view for cogs, what with seeing toontown down below and all. But, um...it's a nice sky?" She was reaching for straws, just trying to keep silence at bay for a little while.

Arthur's mix-matched eyes wandered to look at the blue sky and the poofy little clouds that drifted through the air. "Mm...at least it's easier to see where you are going. You do not have that luxury around the factories."

"I can imagine. The air there is very smog-filled, from what I've seen. I've always wondered how you all can fly there. So how do you manage it? Do you blindly fly from one area to the other?" Her ears swiveled towards him to better catch his words while the wind whisked past them.

"We have programming that automatically guides us to major locations in our headquarters. No risks of crashing into other cogs or buildings that way...still doesn't mean we see where we're going." He'd give that snippet of information to her for free. It wasn't necessarily a risky piece of information. After all, most toons assumed the cogs were pre-programmed to fly here or there once certain tasks or criteria met. It was reasonable to assume they would've thought it just the same sort of system used around the headquarter areas.

"Fascinating." Miss Fancy looked like a wide-eyed child, interested by the snippet of information. That was how the whole trip there was spent, her asking questions and trying to coax even more out of Arthur. What she obtained was little, but the dance of words they had as she tried to learn more and he skirted around her questions made the trip to the headquarters far less dull.

* * *

This was a place toons did not go.

You could feel it in the atmosphere, the oppressive feeling of seriousness and business that had been unmarred by the presence of a toon. Until now, at least. They had arrived at the worker entrance for the building the toons knew as Sellbot HQ. The 'front' that toons saw, as Arthur explained, was only for cogs that were gaining promotions. This was where you accessed -every- part of the building, not just the V.P's perch located high in the sky.

As it was, they would still be going to the top floors. Just not all the way to the top. Miss Fancy's shoes clicked quietly against the smooth, shiny concrete floor, the sound echoing off of the metal walls of the lobby. She kept close to the Mover and Shaker's side, taking two steps for every one of his to make sure she kept up with him. Her eyes briefly flitted to the side, noting the Name Droppers and Short Callers that worked at the desk, answering phones and typing up responses. She looked back in front of her as her ears caught the clicking sound of keys slowing and the distinct feel of eyes upon her. She did not shrink or look down with the attention. The toon kept her head up, her expression unflinching and stride confident. She had been given permission to be here, she was _supposed_ to be here. She wouldn't dare show weakness to these cogs now.

She looked towards the row of elevators upon the wall, some with doors opened welcomingly and others shut as the lights above them lit up or dimmed while the elevators traveled across the floors. She followed Arthur's lead into one of them, her robotic acquaintance taking a position in the corner while she was right by his side. After Arthur hit a button, the doors slid closed with an audible thunk and the metal box began to ascend. Elevator music played from speakers tucked into the back corners, keeping it from being too awkwardly silent. It halted in its trip up a few times, various cogs getting in and stepping off of it along the way upstairs. She just kept her place, briefly glancing up towards those that stepped in, before her gaze casually wandered away from them to look at the metal walls.

Finally, they were there. She exhaled a sigh of relief as the doors dragged themselves open and Arthur started forward. Out of the elevator and into a cavernous lobby, decorated in black, cream and mahogany. From the ceiling to the floors and everything in-between, it all fell into that color scheme. But it was impressively decorated, the industrial feeling of the metal beams and supports being offset by everything else. "Impressive." She uttered under her breath, looking up to Arthur and flashing him a quick smile. "So. Any chance I can get some warning about what to expect or what not to do? I'd hate to end up accidentally insulting your boss."

"Keep calm and confident, say what you need to, and bare with him if he gets scatterbrained. All the falls and pies from the toons have shorted a few circuits." Arthur answered. "It's a matter of seeing what happens." He stopped then at the desk near the gargantuan door opposite of the elevator. "Ms. Jennifer, we are here for Miss Fancy's meeting with the V.P. Please let him know she's arrived."

Jennifer, as she was called, was a Name Dropper. Her eyes narrowed towards the feline, letting her glare linger before she pressed a button on her headpiece. "Sir, the toon is here for the meeting. Shall I buzz her through?" There was a response, and she could physically roll her eyes harder as she hit the button on the side of her desk. With a buzz, the smaller door set within the massive set clicked open. "Go ahead through." She flicked her hand, as if dismissing the toon from her presence.

Blue eyes narrowed. "Thank you. By the way, Ms. Jennifer, was it? Your professionalism and attitude could use a little work." Miss Fancy commented, turning without offering the woman a second glance. She could hear the feminine cog scoff as well as another sound from behind her, something that sounded distinctly like a brief hiccup of a laugh before it was silenced again. Arthur caught up with her, ignoring her amused expression as he cleared his throat and moved past her to hold the door open for her and allow her in first. "Thank you." She said as she passed, arms folding behind her back as she strolled in.

It was a meeting room, like one would expect. Except that there was a staircase off to the side that curved inwards, leading to a raised platform where a meeting table and chairs sat. She looked up towards Arthur, who nodded. "Stairs...my arch nemesis." Miss Fancy grumbled as she began to ascend the staircase.

"You guys have so many elevators, and _now_ you put stairs in." She breathed out at the halfway point. She doubled over by the time they reached the top, heaving out a breath and holding up a finger to indicate to give her a moment to regain her breath. She straightened up, smoothing the wrinkles in her clothes and making sure she was presentable again as she faced another large set of door off to the right of the table. They pulled loose from each other with a hiss, retracting into the wall and out of the way. The heavy rumble of treads filled the air as a utterly massive figure rolled out into view. Miss Fancy's eyes widened, head craning back as he approached and she was forced to look up in order to see his face. "Hello, V.P, sir. I must say, you are even more impressive in person."

"Coming right out of the gate with flattery. Good choice." The boss was pleased with the approach. Good. Miss Fancy had hoped a little flattery would do wonders. "So, you are the toon that Arthur spoke of. Let's get right down into it. Give me one good reason why I should even possibly consider your proposal." The smile that graced this side of the V.P's face almost appeared taunting. Plaid-sleeved arms folded against his chest as he leaned back, the suspension bars of his lower half creaking as they adjusted to the shift in weight.

"Oh, I could give you more than one reason. The first, and I'm sure the most appealing out of the bargain, is that I'm willing to offer information. I can get you information no Cog can give. Being a toon, I can get into places Cogs can't. By which I mean they -can't-. Toons have ways of keeping our biggest, most important areas under your radars." She paused to look back at the sound of metal sliding across metal, noting that it was only Arthur pulling out a chair and taking a seat. He was playing spectator for the occasion, merely wishing to see how the lady toon would do.

She turned back to the looming boss, smile pulled across her smile as she clasped her hands together. "Another reason would be that you would be offering an opportunity to a toon to attempt to better understand your kind. Toons and Cogs have not gotten along well, we know this. But I think part of the reason is that we lack a proper understanding of each other. So, I want to be the first toon to question how we view Cogs, and I want to make the effort to learn." She could see his eyes straying, a clear indication of a mind beginning to stray. Arthur wasn't lying when he said that the V.P's mind was scattered. "Besides, wouldn't you like bragging rights?" She spoke in a clear, slightly louder tone to recapture his attention.

The boss's head spun back to face her, drawn back to the conversation. "Bragging rights?"

"Yes. Think about it now. If you accepted my proposal, you'd have a toon working for you. Now you're probably going 'Well, yeah, I'm going to have a toon, but what does that have to do with anything?'" She was moving, her energy showing in the way she walked across the open space give on the front of the platform closest to the V.P and the way her hands moved and gestured to keep him focused on her. "You'd be the _first_ to have a toon. You'd be the first, and possibly only one of the bosses to have a toon working for them! You'd be the first to get information, which means you're the first to strike and you'll get the best out of the deal. Or, on the flip side, if you were to do something like invade a playground, you could relay the information to the others. Have _them_ do all the grunt work, leaving you to get the prize at the end. Wouldn't it be grand, being able to have the kind of advantage?"

She was unaware of the almost-impossibly large smirk resting on the smaller sellbot's face as he watched the scene. Her methods needed some minor refinement and adjustment but for her only having spoken to him up until this point, it was quite impressive. She had a presence, and that was the most important part of a proposal like this. She was adjusting her tactics as she went, testing what was the best way to pull at the V.P's wires until he'd think it crazy not to jump on the chance to make a contract. Arthur's blue and brown eyes shifted their attention to his boss. A look of interest and consideration was gracing his features...or, at least, what one could read of them. He had a terribly limited expressive range.

Metal clinked as one of the boss's thick silver finger ran across the edge of the square base located beneath his mouths, contemplating what she had said so far. "Tempting...how exactly would you like to wish to learn about the Cogs?"

"Integration. As I see it, the best way to experience it would be to see it from the eyes of a Cog, as well as I can at least. Let me work here, do what any of your employees would do. I see it from their point of view and get a better idea of what the day to day routine is and in return, I supply you with information." She did her best to ignore the V.P's almost amused look, as if he wasn't sure whether he could even consider taking the idea seriously. It was at this point Miss Fancy's shoes clicked once as she halted in her steps and peered over towards Arthur. "Do you have a term for someone who works for someone for free?"

"An intern?"

The clack of metal rang out as the V.P's head spun, the grinning facade turning to face her. "An intern? As in 'work without pay'? In fact, you'd be paying _me~_!" Hands rubbed together greedily at the idea. "How long are you wanting?"

"I want a month. that should give me enough time to learn, adjust and get a handle on working. I want a contractual obligation from you that I will be allowed to work for this full month without any sort of tricks or traps set up by you or other Cogs, although I would think you'd be above trying to get rid of a toon that's paying you." The coral-furred feline as moving again, tough with slower and more precise strides and gestures. "And, within that contract, I want it to be written that at the end of the month, the contract shall be reviewed and, depending on your opinion on my ability to work and be useful, possibly renew it. If you choose not to, I want it written that I shall be allowed to walk away without any resistance from you or others. I will not use anything against you, because you'd have plenty of material to blackmail me with if you did and that leaves me between a rock and a hard place."

The V.P tipped his head, looking towards Arthur. "You hear that? An intern, working without pay~" The thin lids of his binocular eyes lifted and fell, like the wiggle of a brow. "Oh, of course, she's a toon and I doubt she'll measure up to a Cog, but..." He suddenly sank, eyes level with the pink and blue form that stood upon the platform. "I'm in a good mood. I may have finally had too many screws loosened from all of those falls, but I can't turn away from a good deal." His head sprang up again, hands wringing together eagerly. "Let's get a contract written up, shall we?"


	3. Chutes and Corporate Ladders

The first few days since the deal had been struck with the Cogs was 'business as usual' for Miss Fancy Petalbubble. She was told to play the role of a toon as she typically would while they worked on figuring out how best to integrate her into the system. The only thing the cat had to show for her troubles setting up a deal with the Cogs, thus far, was a copy of the contract and a employee manual she could look through on her downtime. While she did enough toontasks and stayed in the public eye to make it appear as though she was doing as any toon did, the manual ended up receiving far more of her attention. She had a lot to study and learn, and so she spent the afternoon and evening hours of the passing days nestled away in a nook over her home, engrossed in the pages of text.

Four days after her meeting, she was alerted to a package being delivered to her mailbox. Her door creaked open, icy eyes peering out at the mailbox standing just a foot or two away. Her eyes narrowed warily as she pushed the door open further, just enough to squeeze through the opening so she could approach the mailbox. She hadn't ordered anything from the cattlelog, and she didn't know anyone who gifted her items. So just what was delivered to her?

A tinny squeak was uttered from the mailbox door as she pulled it open, reaching in and ending up with a box in hand. A simple cardboard box, addressed with a printed label and held closed by packaging tape. The smell of factory smog clung to the box's surface, making her nose crinkle. If there had been any doubt that the drab, dull box was from the Cogs, it was gone now. She tucked it beneath her arm, venturing back into her home to fetch some scissors and deal with the tape so she could see inside.

The cardboard flaps were soon being peeled away with alacrity, fabric-covered hands sweeping away Styrofoam packing peanuts to reveal the box's contents. Folded neatly at the bottom of the box was a crisp, clean uniform composed of a collared beige shirt, a brown jacket and a black skirt and flats. Atop it was a stark white typed note waiting to be read. Tucked beside the uniform was a small box which held cuff-links for the cuffs of her shirt, and another box which contained a peculiar fountain pen and a set of instructions. "The holidays came early this year." She spoke out loud as she picked up the note and let her eyes scan over the text.

She was to put on the uniform, use the pen and report to the Sellbot Towers immediately. According to the letter, she would be working as an intern in Arthur's section of the business. It made sense to have her work with the only cog she even marginally knew, but she wondered what his feelings on the matter were. He had done as she had asked, getting her a meeting with the V.P and ultimately getting her the terms she desired and now he was stuck with her for an indefinite time.

"I suppose we'll see what happens." She mumbled under her breath, setting aside the note and scooping the uniform out of the box and wandered off to her room to change. She was out again in moments, looking over herself and voicing an approving hum. The cogs knew how to make a comfortable, professional looking set of clothes, no doubt about it. She tugged on the hem of the jacket, making sure to smooth out whatever minute crease dared to linger on the fabric. "Alright. Looking good, looking professional and ready for a day of work. Now let's see what they were on about with that pen."

Unboxing it revealed a fountain pen, with a gold clip and rings on the very bottom and top. Strangely, though, the whole pen seemed to be covered in a thin, gripping plastic material. She turned it over in her hands, letting eyes scrutinize while gloved digits rotated it. "So...pen, let's see what you can do." With that, she held up the instructions and read them aloud to herself.

"Step one: Make sure you are in a large, spacious location such as an outdoor area before activating the pen." Right. A few good strides and she was standing outside her home. "Step two: Secure a grip on the pen with both hands." ...'kay. She used the flag of the mailbox to help pin it up so she could continue glancing over the instructions. "Press button located at the top, state desired location and retain grip until you have been delivered."

As soon as she hit the button and stated Sellbot Towers as her destination, the button split apart and retracted. From the top of the pen sprouted a set of silvery propellers that buzzed as they began to twirl. "Wow. Gotta give the cogs points for creativity. A portable propeller pen, ha!" She chuckled. She reached out with a hand, just long enough to snatch the instructions and stow them in a suit pocket before both hands were returned to the aerial device. It plucked her off the ground with relative ease, and she soon found herself meeting the blue skies once more as the pen traced the same flight path her business associate had used prior. "Let's see now, what to do to entertain myself until it gets me there, hm...guess it's time to see how many Toontown landmarks I can see from up here."

* * *

It was a completely different experience walking into the building again.

It was baffling, seeing the very same robotic individuals that worked at the desks in the lobby from before now giving her civil greetings or tips of their heads. The same cogs that glowered at her when she was by Arthur's side, now giving her...well, they were acted in the same neutral way coworkers typically acted towards other coworkers. There were still some looks from a few stubborn individuals, but those glares were quick downcast towards papers and keyboards instead of lingering on her. Ice colored eyes danced across the figures at their desks, staying upon a particular Cold Caller out of the bunch as she approached.

"Hello. Would you mind giving me directions to the floor Arthur the Mover & Shaker works on, please?"

"Eighteenth floor, left half of the floor. Interns are to report to the office owned by one 'Jeremy'. I'll be the fourth door on the right of the hallway you go down." He spoke slow enough to allow her the chance to scribble down the directions on the back of the instructions she had pulled from her pocket. After repeating them aloud and getting confirmation she had written them down properly, she gave a polite nod and thanked him before wandering off towards the elevators. As she stepped in, white cloth-clad fingers found the button to the eighteenth floor and pressed, a small click made and the button lighting up beneath her fingertips. The doors clunked close, and she felt the brief jerk of gravity as it began its ascension up Sellbot Towers.

Music kept away the silence that would've otherwise hung heavy in the metal box that transported her. Not as many people joined her on the way up as before. A Glad Hander had joined her for a few floors, though he was far too busy looking over papers and mumbling to himself to pay attention to her. A pair of Name Droppers had come in, giving her only a brief look before resuming the conversation they were having. Something about one of their coworkers blundering and accidentally deleting the contact information to one of their larger clients. The petite pink toon didn't get to hear the end of the story before they reached their intended floor and left her alone again.

Then came the last of the company she would have in the elevator. A Cold Caller, engrossed in book of crossword puzzles. Navy eyes tore away from the page long enough to look towards the panel of buttons. However, seeing his intended floor was already glowing, he merely shuffled in and took his place on the opposite side of the elevator from her. Miss Fancy released a near inaudible sigh, shifting her weight onto her heels and entwining her hands behind her back. A sidelong glance toward the man to her left allowed her to take note of the stumped, frustrated expression on his robotic features. His eyes were narrowed, brows furrowed and his hand was idly scratching the eraser of a pencil against the side of his head while he was thinking. "I couldn't help but notice you were working on a crossword puzzle. Stuck on one?"

He looked towards her, a look of mild surprise on his face as he realized who it was that was addressing him. Instead of questioning her, though, he tipped his head in confirmation. "I need a nine letter adjective for something that means random or unexpected. Starts with the letter 'D'."

"Hm." Miss Fancy hummed in thought, mind reaching into her mental vocabulary to hunt for a word. "Try 'Desultory'."

The pencil scratched against the paper, and he hummed in approval as the word suddenly had him realizing what words belonged in the blank boxes adjoining to it. "Thank you. So, you're 'Miss Fancy'. You're not what I was expecting."

"Heh, that seems to be a reoccurring theme with me. I'm going to guess word got around that I would be joining the workforce."

"Oh yes, it spread like wildfire. The company email accounts were lighting up from all the chatter about it." The blue-skinned cog tucked the pencil into his suit pocket and folded his crossword book beneath an arm. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Fancy. I'm Benjamin, I'll be one of the two cogs that will be training you today." He extended the hand of his other arm towards her.

"The feeling is mutual, Benjamin, sir. I look forward to learning the ropes and getting some experience with the job." Miss Fancy flashed a smile, gloved hand meeting his and giving a firm shake before retracting her hand. "Is the other one the 'Jeremy' fellow I was directed to go find the office of?"

"Mm-hm. We both handle the training for Arthur's section of the building. You'll be training with three other individuals, so it'll be a relatively simple first day without much competition. Still, that doesn't mean you can take it easy."

"Oh, I don't plan to. I wouldn't have done all I have done just to be a slacker, sir."

"Good mindset." Benjamin felt the elevator slow, doors opening and granting them access to the floor they were waiting for. "Come along then, Miss Fancy, and we'll get you started." With that, he stepped out and led the way, a toon straining to conceal her eagerness to start her job trailing right behind him.

* * *

Jeremy was a Telemarketer who seemed to be more taciturn than the toon cat had expected someone of that model to be. He was the supervisor of the pair, the one who observed and made notes of their trainee's performances. She sat there noiselessly as Benjamin went through the orientation speech and explained what they'd be doing for the day. Files, everything from faxing to copying to organizing. Not the most pleasant of jobs, but considering most of those there would end up at a desk job, it was as good a time as any to start learning what to do with all the important papers that might pass through their hands.

Miss Fancy did not catch the names of the intern cogs she was being trained with. That was fine, they weren't here to make friends, they were here to work just as she was. She politely stepped around them as they were set loose to their desks and the filing cabinets that they'd be using, reverting to her fall backs of Sir, Ma'am or Ind when she had to address them. Thankfully, her run ins with them were infrequent, most of the work given to them leaving them in the cubicles assigned to them that matched the neat rows of work areas surrounding them.

The chaotic mess of files in cabinets deemed 'hers' to work on were soon emptied out by the drawer full and set onto her desk to be meticulously sorted into clean, alphabetized piles. Then they were returned to the drawers, organized by letter and the contents they had within them. Reports were in one drawer, copies of contact information in another, so on. She did not rush, but did not dawdle. She was meticulous, but efficient. She caught on quick, but did not hesitate to approach one of her trainers if she needed to confirm what they had said or if she needed assistance understanding the task at hand. She learned, she adapted, she improved.

Before she knew it, hours had passed. When the silent observer of a trainer finally spoke up and called for break time, the other interns scattered in the blink of an eye. Eyes looked up from her work, bewildered expression clear on her face. "Break time already?" She had gotten a groove going, and it was disappointing to have it slowed to a halt.

The Cold Caller chuckled, giving her a shrug and nod. "Yes, Miss Fancy. If you'd like, Jeremy or I could show you where the break room is-"

"That won't be necessary, Benjamin. It's break time for myself as well, I'd be more than willing to show her to the break room while I'm heading there myself." Came a voice from a figure approaching behind Miss Fancy. The little toon's ears perked and swiveled behind her, recognizing the voice. She spun around, smile wide on her face.

"Hello, Arthur, er, sir." Her smile turned sheepish as she remembered she was, in fact, facing one of her bosses now. She was greeted with an acknowledging cant of the head while he waited for a response from the pair of lower leveled cogs.

"If you would like to, sir, feel free. It'll give Jeremy and I time to check in with the staff and get the next round of work prepared for our trainees."

"Good. Come along, Miss Fancy. I'll show the way." Arthur waved her over to his side and started to walk, the petite salmon-colored toon hastening her pace to keep up with his much longer strides.

"Thank you, sir." She began as she glanced up towards him, cracking a grin. "How have you been? Still functioning at normal capacity?"

"I am doing well, thank you for asking. And yes, I have been functioning normally thus far." The towering Sellbot folded his arms comfortably behind his back as he started to lead her through the various hallways. "How have you been managing with your first day of work?"

"I've managed well." She answered, confidence in her own abilities very clearly audible. "The work is a smidge monotonous, but I've discovered how to work piecemeal and develop a rhythm. I was disappointed to have to stop, honestly."

"That's good to hear. The grind was the part I was concerned how you'd handle. But from the sounds of it, you have done exceptionally." They reached their destination then. It was a comfortably sized room, filled with tables and seating for those on their break. A couple individuals, including the other interns, were scattered around the room, but she paid little attention to them in favor of examining the environment. There were machines that appeared to be vending machines of some kind off to one side, and a counter that ran along a decent portion of the wall opposite the machines. Set upon the glistening metal counter tops were a trio of large rectangular machines with spigots set upon two tanks on their fronts. Flanking the machines on either side were disposable cup dispensers and minuscule sugar packets, creamer cups and stirring straws. "Have you ever had coffee, Miss Fancy?" Arthur inquired, peering over his shoulder as she wandered in and stared distractedly at the various bulletin boards and tally boards on the walls.

"Hm? Oh, no, I have not." She responded, shuffling closer to peer around his arm as he collected two of the cups and poured a dark, almost black liquid into them. "Is it safe for a toon to drink?"

"I would assume so. It's not made strictly for machines, and I don't think the 'ever-resilient' toons would be downed with a mere dose of caffeine." Arthur answered, handing off one of the cups to her and taking a couple of the things she could only assume were poured into the coffee. They seated themselves at one of the tables, and she was left exhaling quiet breaths along the surface of the dark liquid to convince the practically molten hot liquid to cool to a temperature she could safely drink it. Meanwhile Arthur could happily sip away at it with no troubles. There were perks to being a machine who was built to ingest food and drink, apparently.

"So," Miss Fancy began, staring down into the onyx-colored coffee in her cup. "I must inquire, Arthur. How did I end up working in your section of the company? Was the decision forced, did it take compromise or-" She found herself cut off by his laughter. It was brief, but it was there. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Had she said something amusing?

"Oh, Miss Fancy. Nobody forced the decision on me. I intentionally requested you work for me." His tone was casual, as if it was as common to talk about as the weather. She found herself staring at him, mouth agape and eyes blown wide in surprise. "You seem so surprised."

"That's because I am?"

"You shouldn't be. You rebuilt me, showing not only are you an erudite individual, but you're dedicated to going through with your plans. You've shown you are talented at skillfully manipulating people with words and have tremendous potential for creating future deals and sweet-talking your way out of problems. You've proven today that you have the capacity to be a diligent, hardworking being who keeps to their end of the agreement. I had to jump on the chance while I could. I'd be a fool not to." He ended his statement with the lip of the cup meeting his mouth, going silent as he drank his coffee.

"Oh...thank you." The feline found her words failing her, her mind drawing a blank as she tried to think of how to expand her response. That was not what she had predicted his answer would be, not anywhere near what she had thought. She chose this moment to attempt drinking the coffee...only for her muzzle to crinkle as the bitter taste assaulted her mouth. The brief snort of a laugh came from her higher-up as he pushed the sweeteners towards her. She took them with alacrity and mixed the containers' contents into her cup. The second attempt was a much more subdued reaction. Bitter, but tolerable now.

"What do you think?"

"I like it. It's a nice change from all the sweetness toons intake." She answered, shifting in her chair to adjust her crossed ankles and sit back comfortably in her chair. "How long until we have to head back to work?"

"Approximately," He began, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a watch that hugged his wrist. "Five minutes. So I'd suggest you start working on finishing off that coffee before I return you to Benjamin and Jeremy."


	4. Green Is The New Red

Work amongst the cogs was different than 'work' with toons. There was a great feeling of order, even in the hustle and bustle of the busy corporate setting. From the way the keyboards clicked to the way bots paced down hallways and past cubicles, there was always a distinct rhythmic undertone to the atmosphere. Like their namesakes, they moved and kept the interlocking gears of the company running. It took practice, but with time and effort, Miss Fancy became another tooth in the gear Arthur controlled.

The other interns and her were trained part time, only working the early half of the work day. A week into her training, she was beginning to notice a trend from the time she ventured into Sellbot Towers to the time she departed. She always left with a dull headache and a distinct lingering feeling. Not quite sad and not quite sick, just a feeling of general unwellness. It always cleared up once she was home and got some rest or had to attend to her 'toony' duties. She chalked the unwell feeling up to the polluted atmosphere outside of the towers and the unfamiliar environment she worked in. That had to not be doing her any favors.

Her training lasted the entire month. She was an unpaid intern, learning the tricks of the trade and increasing her knowledge of the corporate robots while she was at it. She held up her end of the bargain in return, gathering toon secrets or divulging the best businesses to take over. She schmoozed, she talked, she manipulated to get what the cogs wanted. But she fed them snippets of information at a time, unwilling to give up everything so freely until she was guaranteed a secured job amongst them. If the reception amongst her business associates were any indication of what to expect for her contract review, she was confident in getting a long-term partnership set up.

"You've reached Sellbot Towers, Branch 2A of Marketing Directing and Advising, how may I help you?" She greeted through the microphone of her wireless headpiece while she was busy organizing the latest stack of papers passed off to her. "I'll transfer you to the budgeting department, please hold." She reached over to the phone, selecting a button that patched the caller to another line. Not even a minute passed before she was answering another call and sending them off on another line again.

"Miss Fancy?" She swiveled around on her heel, finding her azure colored instructor waiting at the entrance to her cubicle. "It's time for your appointment with the V.P."

"Yes sir." She bowed her head in thanks for the reminder, shutting off her headset and leaving it upon the silver metal desk she had called her own for the past four weeks. "Do you know if Arthur will be attending this time?"

"No. He told me you'd be handling this on your own, but he has called ahead and given his recommendations of what to do with you." Benjamin stepped aside to let her out of the cubicle and extended a hand her way. "Just on the off-chance I might not be seeing you around, it's been a pleasure working with you."

"As it has been working with you. Think I might not get a secured job?" She asked as she gripped the metallic hand and firmly shook it.

"Never said that. I'm making sure I'm covering the bases, that's all. Any good Sellbot would do that, you know."

"Heh, of course they would."

* * *

It had been an hour since Miss Fancy had ventured out from her cubicle to face the titanic boss of the Sellbots. She was now seated at her new desk, set in a half-office like space outside of Arthur's own office. Her copy of her new long-term employment contract was sitting neatly in the center of her dark metal desk. Surrounding it were the necessities of her new job. A phone, a computer, her headset, various office supplies and a name plate was proudly displayed to those that passed by.

She was now a proper employee. The skills she showed as during her training had led them to decide she would best be put to use as a secretary. She was content with the decision. It was a reasonable start for her, and continuing to work for the rebuilt Mover & Shaker meant less time wasted on further training to adapt to another boss and the way they ran their part of the business.

"Are you settling in okay?" She looked up at the voice, a smile blooming on her muzzle as she straightened up in her chair and gave a bow of the head.

"Yes, Arthur, sir."

The taller man, now a man she could properly call her boss, tipped his head in a nod. Hands were clapped together in eagerness, toothy grin spreading across his metal features. "Good. Will you be able to start working right away?"

"Oh yes, I believe I'll be able to." As she answered, she was already pulling on her headset and tucking the contract away in one of the drawers. "Ready and willing to get started." As soon as he gestured for her to start, she flipped on the headset and was immediately bombarded with calls. Gloved fingers were popped in preparation and she reached over to the phone, answering the first line.

"You've reached Sellbot Towers, Branch 2A of Marketing Directing and Advising, Marketing Director Arthur's office. How may I help you?" A small pause as she spun to check the calendar behind her. "Yes, your meeting has been penciled in for 2:30 pm on March 15th. You're welcome, have a nice day." It was almost identical to the work she had already had to do, so she took to the job with little trouble. Arthur lingered for a few seconds, making sure she had it under control before he ventured back into his office to the papers and phone calls waiting for him. He was confident that Miss Fancy had it under control.

She handled the first true day of work like a pro. But by the end of the day, she looked fatigued, physically and mentally. Fatigue was to be expected. With a farewell that was less cheery and energetic as it tended to be, she returned home and immediately went to bed. The coral-colored toon curled up beneath the amethyst-hued blankets of her bed, letting out a sigh. The unwellness was there, as she had assumed it would be. But it was stronger now, more noticeable. A dull ache pounded in her skull, her nerves were sparking with anxiety about tomorrow, her chest felt heavy with a feeling that felt familiar but different. She felt like a mess. She sniffed, burrowing herself deeper in the blankets until nothing but her eyes and the top of her head were visible. Maybe she'd feel better tomorrow. Or not.

Her hope that her condition would normalize was shattered by the time the next afternoon rolled in. The feelings from the previous night hadn't dissipated with sleep like they typically did. They weren't as noticeable, but they weren't gone. By the time the shift had ended, she was feeling even worse than before. She was practically shuffling off towards the elevator, looking half awake and only vaguely alert of her surroundings.

"Have a nice evening, Miss Fancy. See you tomorrow." Arthur watched as she peered over her shoulder to force a smile his way and wave, voicing a 'You too' before she went on her way. He observed her as she left, making a mental note to keep an eye on his petite secretary and see if she was having a rough adjustment to the work schedule...or if something else was draining her of her enthusiasm and energy.

* * *

During the third work day, Arthur had begun check in on her frequently, since his coming and going from the office meant he could glance over and see how she was. Every hour that ticked by, she looked less and less...together. There was some fatigue going on, as was to be expected from a person who hadn't been used to a full work day. But there was something else there, like a hidden undercurrent beneath the calm facade of a river's surface. Her composure was slipping the further into the day, and anxiety and emotions were coming up to the surface.

"Miss Fancy, are you okay?" The question was posed, but she didn't need to answer with words. When her glossy eyes looked up towards him, filled with confusion and worry, it was very clear that the answer was 'no'. "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know." Her voice was tremulous, body wracked with subtle shakes. She didn't understand what was going on, nothing had ever felt like _this_. The only event that had even felt marginally like this was going sad, but it wasn't ever this intense. It was a little gloom and lethargy that she had to put up with while you shuffled about the playground and then she was right as rain when her laff-meter popped back up to one percent. This felt a hundred times worse than that.

Arthur coaxed her out and away from the desk by gently tugging her chair. She offered no reluctance to move, letting him pull the chair and her along freely. His heterochromatic eyes darted, thinking of possible causes for her condition. He halted, focusing on her again. "Miss Fancy, do you have your laff-meter?"

"N-No, it's...it's with my things, downstairs. I can go get i-it." The toon stammered as she began to stand, though found it hard to persuade her body to lift up out of the chair. She felt weak, her head felt weighted down and she found herself toppling over, slumping against the plaid cloth of a business suit as metal arms caught her. For as light as she was, she felt heavy as her toony form became dead weight as she fell into unconsciousness. Gingerly, he returned her to the chair, watching as she ended up limply leaning to one side.

Under his breath, he spoke. "What has happened to you, Miss Fancy?" Brown and blue eyes monitor her, making sure she still breathed while he tried to decide the course of action to take now. He wouldn't have ever thought he'd have to deal with a medical emergency with a toon, especially not so soon. He only had one idea of who he could contact to help with this. If he couldn't, he wasn't sure who else could diagnose and treat whatever error had befallen her. A hand blindly groped for phone on her desk, pulling it off of the receiver and typing in a number. With it pressed against his audio receiver, he patiently waited while it rang. And rang. And rang...a click from the other side finally regained his focus again.

"Repair Station 1A-14, zhis is Oleander. How may I assist you?"

"Oleander, it's Arthur."

"Arzhur? It is strange to be receiving a call from you."

"I know. Have you heard about our latest addition to the work force, the toon?"

"Ja, vhat about her?"

"Any chance you could treat a toon?"

"Treat a toon? Arzhur are you serious? How am I..." There was a huff and then silence emanated from the other end of the line. Minutes passed, and then a sigh was voiced. "Bring her down here and I vill see vhat I can do."

* * *

Pipes rattled and hissed in the ceiling overhead, keeping the heavy silence at bay in the underworks of the factory. Lights barely uttered a hum as they illuminated the room with a sterile white glow, making metal walls and floors shine. There was a worn, but cleanly nature to the repair facility. It was not all in the best condition, but it was far more presentable than the headquarters above ground.

Within one of the many repair rooms stood Arthur and another individual. Hovering by the side of a chrome examination table was a Cog nearly a head taller than Arthur, appearing a visual contrast to the smaller mechanism. Instead of the dull, but warm tones of the Sellbot, this one was dressed in a suit of slate blue with plating the color of seafoam green. His facial features mimicked that of an older gentleman instead of a fresh-faced businessman, with square rimmed glasses only adding to his 'age'. His attention was locked on the blush colored feline currently laid upon the table. "She is still breazhing, her pulse is stable zhough zhere is no response to external stimuli...you said zhis happened while she vas vorking?"

"Yes."

"Hm." The Spin Doctor's jaw tightened, locking as he thought over the situation. He had no experience in treating toons. He was a technician for the corporate automatons, not a proper doctor for the brightly colored cartoon animals. They were worlds apart from each other. "Does she have zhe health meter zhe toons use?"

"The 'Laff-Meter'?"

"Ja, ugh...ridiculous name-," Steel blue eyes rolled at the name. They couldn't simply call it a health meter, could they? No, they had to pick a silly name for it. "Does she have it on her person?"

"No, she left it with her belongings on the ground floor when she checked in today, as per usual." Arthur's back found the wall as he leaned against it, arms folding while his eyes glanced between the taller Cog and the feline. "I had a similar thought that she might be experiencing the 'Green' effect we cause on them during battle. She didn't appear to recognize the feeling of it when I was asking her what was wrong."

"It is as good a guess as ve have at zhis point, so ve'll have to vork on zhe assumption zhat zhis is 'greening' in action." Oleander tugged off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance, eyes squinting closed. Sub-optimal optics cracked open soon after and settled on the peach and brown colored shape he knew to be the high ranking Sellbot. "Vhy are you showing such concern about zhis toon, Arzhur? She's just a toon-"

"I wouldn't be standing here without that toon's help, so I'd suggest you watch what you say about her." There was a tense silence that hung between them, the two mechanisms staring each other down. Oleander was glowering at his general shape, unable to make out distinct features without his glasses and unwilling to look away.

Eventually, though, he had to be the one to back down. He heaved an agitated sigh as he returned his glasses to their proper place on his face. Joints voiced their muted squeaks as he fell into a mechanically timed march towards the door. "I'll return in a moment, Arzhur. Keep an eye on her."

When the blue suited individual left the room, the tension went with him. Metal shoulders drooped as Arthur altered his position and let the wall support even more of his weight as he leaned upon it. Miss Fancy did not stir upon the table, the only movement registered by his eyes was the rise and fall of her chest. He wondered why she hadn't said anything about her worsening condition before it boiled over. Was it stubbornness? Did she think it would go away? Did she assume it was nothing more than a cold or whatever it is toons got sick with? "You are a flummoxing feline, Miss Fancy." He looked away from her, eyes picking a non-specific area of the room to glare at while his CPU mulled over the situation.

A part of him wondered if Oleander had a point. Regardless of what she did, she was ultimately still a toon. He had helped her get into the corporate world of the Cogs, he had provided her a job and he was helping her now. Was he doing too much for her? Was he being too cordial? A part of him _wanted_ to be bitter and callous and let her fend for herself to see what would happen. He doubted she'd make it long without someone to back her up and assist her, at least until she had enough of a confident position to handle herself. She was new, she was inexperienced. Enthusiasm and willingness to learn withal, she would go crashing down the corporate ladder if she was didn't have his protection.

But...

He couldn't do that. He couldn't be like Oleander and let the bitterness towards the toons bleed out to affect his disposition towards her. She had only ever striven to learn and understand what those of her kind refused to examine to any degree than to further their destructive goals. Despite how risky it was for her, even after she had obtained her contract to train among the Cogs, she had put her faith and trust in him. She treated him like a friend and colleague, and the thought of leaving her to struggle on her own left an unpleasant, constricting feeling in the components housed within his upper torso.

Arthur's head jerked as he was dislodged from his thoughts by the scraping of the metal door sliding open. Oleander was back, articulated hands clad in amethyst gloves and a set of tongs in hand. Clasped in the arms of the metal tool was an indigo bag tied off with a dandelion yellow string. "Zhey had not moved zhe 'gags' confiscated today into storage yet. Zhis should vork vithout a toon using it." He held the tongs out in front of him as though the pouch was some highly-infectious, disease-ridden thing. He came to a sharp halt at the edge of the table, briefly casting a look towards the unconscious toon. Gloved digits reluctantly reached towards the bag and tugged the string loose and overturned the bag to spill the glimmering sparkles of light contained within onto her. "Time to return to zhe land of zhe conscious, Miss Fancy."


	5. Technicians and Suspicions

Author's Notes: Terribly sorry for the long delay on this chapter! There was a great many issues in determining pacing here. It is a shorter chapter than usual, but hopefully the next chapter will be back to the minimum word limit I set for chapters.

* * *

 _"She...star...vake up."_

A painfully loud ringing filled the ears while eyes sluggishly opened, blinking as they struggled to focus. The glare of a light above made them squint, head turning away to stare off towards the rest of the room. Two figures stood by the table, one clad in brown and the other in blue.

 _"Miss Fancy?...okay?"_

 _"Sh...disoriented and...give her a minute...-cover."_

Pain bloomed in her skull as she struggled to move, wincing as her body forced her to remain flat upon the table for a few minutes longer. "W..hat happened?" She croaked out, voice hoarse and weak.

 _"You were in a state of emotional distress and went unconscious. Oleander made an educated guess and found a way to bring you back around."_

The ringing in her ears was subsiding, her eyes focusing on the two men. One she recognized as Arthur, the other she hadn't met before. She knew the model he was. A Spin Doctor, dressed in the slate-blue suit identifying him as a Lawbot. 'Oleander', she had heard her boss refer to him as.

"Oleander?...How?"

"Confiscated gags, Miss Fancy. Zhe 'Pixie Dust', as I believe you toons refer to it as, vas vhat I used." He stepped back as she sat up. The toon held the side of her head as she groggily looked about. This didn't look like any part of Sellbot Towers that she had seen. It was colder, quieter. It reminded her of a basement more than it did the offices of the building she had been working in. Her expression contorted into one of confusion as she focused her gaze back on the two automatons.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Underworks, Miss Fancy. The repair facilities of Sellbot Headquarters, nestled right beneath the factory. Oleander was the only one I could think to go to when you blacked out, so I brought you here." The Mover and Shaker answered. The aforementioned lawbot stepped forward, leaning closer to look her over and make certain that she appeared to be alert and well again.

"Miss Fancy, are you back to optimal efficiency now?"

"I...believe so, yes."

"Gut. If you are going to be vorking here, I vould recommend keeping zhat 'laff-meter' on your person at all times and monitoring your condition better. Arzhur should not have to scrape you off of zhe floor on a constant basis. Is zhat understood?" Steel blue eyes were narrowed behind square-framed glasses.

There was a bit of an attitude there, Miss Fancy could pick that up pretty clear. She tried to ignore it. "Yes, Mr. Oleander. I will keep it on my person from now on. Thank you for helping me."

"Do not zhank me. I did only vhat I had to because Arzhur told me to assist. If not for him, I vould not have helped."

The feline's ears flicked back a degree, her lips pulling into frown. "You know, I was attempting to be nice but I don't particularly care for the attitude that you're displaying, Oleander." She had dropped the title, a subtle jab of hers that Arthur had seen in action only on rare occasions before now.

"I do not have a tolerance for toons, Miss Fancy. I'm not going to hide it or sugar coat it. I assisted purely out of orders, nozhing more."

"You know, it's perfectly understandable that you don't have a tolerance for them, I barely have tolerance for them myself and I _am_ a toon. But," She stopped her train of response long enough to hop down from the table and straighten herself up to her full height, "I am part of the work force here in the headquarters. I am an employee, a new one but one nonetheless. I am not asking to be friends with you, but I am asking you to keep our interactions, however few and far between they are in the future, on civil terms. No attitude from you, no attitude from me. When I thank you, I expect a 'you're welcome'." Her hands were on her hips, arms flared out to either side as she looked the lawbot dead in the eye. She was full on challenging him.

A faint sneer arrived on his expression as he crossed his arms. He seemed relaxed, almost completely unimpressed. "You found a spitfire for a secretary, Arzhur. I'd vatch her before she gets herself in trouble."

"Oh, who am I going to get in trouble with? A sour lawbot technican in a basement of a headquarters that isn't even of his type? I'm _so_ scared."

A twitch made his sneer falter. "Arzhur, get her out of here."

"Come on, Miss Fancy. Let's get back to the headquarters, get you back to work." She did not resist when a hand grabbed her shoulder and turned her away from the Spin Doctor, leading her out of his repair station and out to the hall. Their shoes click against the floors and reverberate off the metal walls of the corridor. Once out of earshot of the repair station, the plaid-suited android "Miss Fancy, I know you don't know any better regarding Oleander, but it would be wise to not push him."

"Why? He was the one with the attitude problem-" She began, only to get cut off.

"I know, I know. I'm well aware of his attitude. But he's...he's a difficult guy. There's reasons he acts the way he does, especially regarding the whole toon thing. I'll explain it later, just...watch it with him, okay? Don't make him angry, and don't go making jabs about what he is and where he is. You hit a bad sore spot there. Now, let's hurry it along and get back to work." Arthur encouraged her to walk faster, towards the elevator at the end of the hall. "We'll pick up your laff meter on the way back up to my floor. Let's hope we can get back to Sellbot Towers without running into any of problems along the way."

* * *

Elsewhere, far from the gloomy headquarters...

A pastel violet and blue building stood among other similarly colored businesses and homes along a side street of the musical neighborhood of Minnie's Melodyland. While the particular building was nothing special in terms of looks, it was what it was and who worked within it that made it a big deal. 'Lyre Detective Agency'. One of the largest networks of information gatherers and networks in the whole town, and one who closely worked with the Toon Resistance.

Most of the eyes and ears that worked there were out doing their jobs, gathering intel, checking on toons, whatever they were assigned to do. It was quiet without toons chatting back and forth about their findings, piecing together clues or making plans after work. Only the hushed hum of the spinning overhead fans and the slow jazz leaking from one office kept pure silence at bay.

Wingtip shoes clicked across purple tinted hardwood floors, the shuffle of papers heard as folders and their contents are examined. Reports, what's been going on, what suspicious activity's been occurring, what buildings were taken over by cogs. Typical sorts in this line of work.

"Hm." The toothpick resting in one corner of his lips shifted to the other corner as he looked over the papers. The Cogs, specifically the Sellbots, had begun to develop an interesting pattern with their takeovers lately. They were hitting the task-giving buildings with an unusual amount of precision. It was getting harder for toons to do their tasks without having to deal with buildings. It wasn't just one time either, they were taking them back just as quickly as they were being rescued. That behavior was only seen in invasions, and even then not as rapid fire.

The burly toon continued reading, a gloved hand scratching at the icy blue fur that formed fluffy sideburns down the sides of his feline face. Maybe the Cogs were starting to get smarter. Rarely did they ever change tactics, despite being a bunch of fancy mechanisms that should've been able to learn when their current method of attack wasn't working. "What are you up to?" His gruff voice questioned aloud, as if expecting a response. Nothing but silence answered him.

The reports were tossed onto his ivory colored desk, the lone mug swiped off of its surface instead. The dark-tinted liquid within fizzed as it was jostled and disturbed, revealing its identity to be something of the carbonated variety. He sipped at it, the pick kept securely in the corner of his lips as he drank. He strode over to the record player, turning the volume knob down a few notches as the blaring of clarinets and brass became obnoxious. Feline ears twitched as he caught the creak of wood behind him. Instead of spinning to face the intruder, he merely smirked. "Nina, quiet as a grave and sneaky as any burglar but ya still forget those squeaky floorboards after all this time." A deep laugh leaves him as he turned to face the visitor. "How's my favorite dame doin'?"

"Well enough." Her voice was soft, barely surpassing the level of a whisper. A periwinkle and white colored rabbit, adorned in the purple gear of the Resistance Rangers. Pinned beneath one arm was a small box, and beneath the other was papers. More reports. For being toons, they sure had their fair share of papers. "I stopped by the headquarters. These are all the reports of toons that haven't been completing tasks as of late." They were soon deposited on the desk to join the other stack of reports.

"What's the word? Anything interestin'?"

"There is one toon report that might be worth your time."

"Yeah? Gimme the details while I take a gander at this report." He adjusted the suspenders hooked around his shoulders as he started back towards his desk, taking the offered report when it was presented to him. Cerulean eyes bounced across the text, his ears swiveled forward towards the rabbit while his mug was returned to the wooden work station.

"There's a pink cat by the name of 'Miss Fancy Petalbubble'. She hasn't been doing tasks as of late, and she's been seen going into Sellbot Towers frequently over the past month." Her arms folded behind her back, posture practiced, but relaxed nonetheless.

"She could be doing rounds against the V.P."

"We thought of that, but as far as know based on the records, she doesn't have a complete Sellbot suit."

"Could be heading up to fight in the building. I know you'd have to be nerts to go right in on their turf and fight 'em, but some toons can manage it." He flipped the page, eyeing the rest of the text. "I'd say we keep an eye on her, see if she's fighting or if we've got some kind of put-on going on here." The toothpick moved back to the other side of his mouth, teeth worrying on it for a moment. "The Cogs have been actin' real screwy lately, too. Toons are havin' a tough time gettin' tasks done. Those mechanical dingbats sure don't want to get their meathooks off the task buildings. Bunch a malarkey." He tossed the report back down onto the table, ears and tail both twitching as he realized she had a box in hand. "What else you bring with ya, Nina?"

"Oh, you mean this box here?" She asked as she held it up, pointing to it with her free hand. A small, nearly mischievous grin stretched across her white muzzle, her ivories flashing. "Oh, I just brought a little something for you from headquarters. Figured I'd surprise you." In second, he had darted around his desk and to her side. "What's the magic word, Lloyd?"

"'Please'?" The box was handed over into his eager hands and opened. "Ah, sweet baked wheels of goodness~! Ah, Nina, you're a doll, y'know that?" He beamed at the smaller toon. The investigator was a sucker for doughnuts, as cliche as it was. "Though you should be trying to make it a habit to call me 'Detective Lyre' like the rest of the staff does."

The Ranger's sapphire eyes rolled, a gloved fist playfully tapping him on the shoulder. "Oh, come on. Your fancy title's only reserved for when you've gotta act like the big boss man or amazing detective on the case. Friends call friends by their names, you big dork. Now, while you're busy enjoying the baked goods, let me see the info you got on the cogs. Headquarters will be wanting to know what you've collected."


	6. Befriending and Descending

Five weeks. It had been five weeks since she had had the first of her greening incidents. Even with her laff-meter on her person, it was hard to keep track of it. With as many precautions as she could take, she had had many close calls. She was trying her best to manage, trying to keep those pesky points up whenever she got home. It was hard, but when was anything ever easy?

On top of that, a thorn had found its way into her side since she had gained full employment within Sellbot Towers. The name of that thorn was 'Jennifer'. The lavender-skinned harpy that sat outside the V.P's office who was always preening and cooing until she showed up, then it was glares and passive-aggressive squawking under her breath. The Name Dropper had an air of superiority about her. She was the _V.P's_ secretary, she was close to the boss, she flaunted it and made it very clear she didn't want a toon around. She made it hell to even meet with him to hand off the promised information Miss Fancy would gather while out mingling with toons.

She was always given the runaround until she either got someone like Arthur involved, or she got tired of her and made her way through the doors without her permission. Her patience for Jennifer's attitude and her antics was running thin, especially with the combination of her laff. She needed a plan. She needed to find a way to deal with this, to make it easier for her to tolerate...

Part of that plan, she had already been putting into motion. Miss Fancy had been trying to form a friendship with a certain technician throughout these past few weeks. As Arthur had explained to her later after her meeting with the Spin Doctor, he had reasons for despising toons beyond the mere fact they were a mischievous, destructive force that went against everything the Cogs stood for. He had lost friends, dear friends, in a short span of time. He had suffered through grief, and instead of being given the help and support someone experiencing loss needed...he was deemed unfit for work in the repair wards of Lawbot HQ, and was sent here instead. According to Arthur, the sentence appeared merciful compared to being scrapped or his mind wiped but it was anything but. Sellbot HQ was looked down upon by the other branches, considered little more than a dump for them to toss what they didn't want or need. It was an insult to be sent here.

With careful gathering of information from Arthur, she had started the process of making things less tense between them with the offering of an apology note and books. Oleander was an avid reader, a lover of literature, particularly of the mystery genre. Then she began to pay him visits. Every day off she had, she would make sure Arthur was doing well and then went down to the Underworks to visit the technician. He had a hard shell to crack, a cold exterior of ice and barbed wire to keep everyone at a distance. But she was stubborn, and she was patient. So far, they had gotten him to start talking and holding conversations with them. She had even, at one point, gotten him intrigued enough in her laff-meter to let him study it in exchange for looking at one of the technical manuals for one of the other Sellbot models.

"Oleander? I brought you coffee." The feline called as she knocked on the metal door. She waited until he granted her permission, and pushed it open. He was sitting upon the steel table she had woken up on before, the slate blue suit jacket absent on his form and his sleeve rolled up as he was busy attempting repairs on his arm. "What happened to your arm?"

"Patient had an episode vhile I vas attempting to repair zhem, and I suffered damages to my arm's viring as a result." He calmly explained, only to hiss something under his breath as he struggled to operate on the damaged limb.

Miss Fancy watched as she set the coffee on his desk. "You perform self-maintenance? Why not have another technician assist you?"

"One to two technicians are zhe most a facility ever needs. Cogs are not damaged enough to need many in my line of vork."

"May I offer my assistance then? Maybe hold your arm still so you can work on it?"

There was a look spared towards her, and then it trailed back down to the busted appendage. "...Fine. Come hold it still." His voice was a reluctant growl, relenting on his pride and stubbornness to make it easier on himself. Soon she was standing there, slender white gloved hands holding his arm up with a firm grasp.

While he worked on his repairs, she cleared her throat. "So...what did you think of the books?"

Steel blue peered over the black rims of his glasses, his expression unreadable. "Zhey are good so far, I am enjoying zhem. Danke."

"You're welcome." A smile flashed across her peach muzzle.

"...How has it been vizh zhe laff points?" He was not looking at her now, almost appearing to ask out to continue some form of conversation.

"It's been difficult." She admitted with a light sigh. "I have been trying my best to keep it under control, but I've had a lot of close calls. The laff meter isn't good enough for catching the subtle drops of points and letting me know when I need to take it easy."

"Arzhur told me you vere having trouble vizh zhat." The fingers of his injured hand twitched, movement jerky at first but smoothing into normal smoothness once he fine-tuned the settings. "He made a deal vizh me."

"A deal? What for?" The cat's ears were perked high as she released his arm, seeing it fully functional and back to normal now.

"Keeping you safe." He answered as he stood, pulling down his sleeve and going to toss his tools in their sterilization container. "Look in zhe middle drawer of zhe drawer chest beside you. Zhere is a clear container zhat has somezhing for you." He did not look back as he heard the drawer slide open, focusing only on cleaning up and preparing his work station for when someone else may need repairs. He heard her gasp, and then coo as she pulled the container out and opened it.

Within it sat a pin. Circular and thin, with a gear shape engraved within in. Set in the center was a light, similar to a health meter a cog might have. As of now, it was black inactive and unlit. "This-"

"Put it on."

She looked back towards him with a quizzical expression, but complied. Gloved fingers pulled loose the pin from the back, slipping it onto her jacket and clipping the pin closed so it sat securely upon her jacket. The light flickered on, giving a brief buzz as it switched through green, yellow, orange, red and then settled on a yellow glow. "Oh! It's a laff-meter!"

"Ja. I used a cog's healzh meter and used vhat I learned from your laff-meter to make it vork. It vill not prevent you from going sad, but zhat is vhat _I'm_ here for." Oleander pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looked over his shoulder. "Arzhur arranged for me to become your technician as vell. Or, 'physician', as it is called for organic creatures."

"How on earth did he ever do that?"

"He is a Sellbot, he knows how to pitch a deal." The Spin Doctor went rigid as, within seconds, the sensation of constriction around his waist was processed. She was hugging him. _She was hugging him_.

"Thank you, thank you-" She began, only to realize how unprofessional she was being and released her hold on him. "Um. Sorry. My glee got the better of me." She folded her hands in front of her, offering him a sheepish smile. "But really, thank you. Regardless of whether Arthur put you up to it, I appreciate that you made this for me and that you'll put up with me to fix me up."

The Lawbot smoothed the wrinkles in his jacket, giving a single brisk nod. "You're velcome." He looked past her then, towards the door as it opened. A cog in need of repair. Miss Fancy didn't need to be told that it was time for her to find her way out of the Underworks.

"I'll leave you to your work, Oleander." She tipped her head respectfully towards him before heading out, uttering a brief 'excuse me' to the damaged model as she stepped around and past them.

* * *

Her issue with her laff was handled now. There was a brand new confidence instilled in her with the pin on her chest and the knowledge that Oleander was there as her backup should those precious points diminish too much. Her mood was better, and it almost felt as if today would shape up to be a pleasant one. Between her and Arthur, her plan of thawing out the technician and getting a reliable source of toon-up to keep her going through her work had been a success. It meant her mood could level out, and she had the patience and the tolerance to put up with the obnoxious Name Dropper.

But tolerating her was a temporary solution. She had to decide on a more permanent method of getting her out of the way, otherwise she would continually make it hell to hand off information to the V.P. She wouldn't go about it the simple 'toony' way, not even Jennifer was bad enough for her to be destroyed. She had to handle this situation...'professionally'.

It started by tracking the Name Dropper's schedule. How long did she work, when did she take breaks? Cogs, as she learned, were often creatures of habit. The time they took breaks as around the same time every work day, whether it be to simply get up and take a quick walk to loosen up locked up joints or a trip to get coffee and take a breather, it was always done around the same general time.

Next came testing the waters about how other coworkers felt about her. Not surprisingly, they weren't fond of her. Not only did she act like she was all that and a bag of chips, but she made it very clear that she felt nobody was worth her time unless they were kissing up to her and feeding that ego of hers. There was also the mention that many individuals who had sent in requests for promotions had had a notable lack of response. No approval, no denial, just plain _silence_. Only a certain few were getting promoted. Promotion requests had to go through _her_ to get to the V.P.

The seeds of discord were planted with a simple sentence from her: "It almost sounds as though she's screening promotion requests and hand-picking people." That started the rumor and muttering that spread from water cooler to water cooler.

They were going to want proof next. She had collected her camera and a simple metal nail file from home before leaving for another fine work day, keeping the items tucked away in the deceptively sized toony pocket located in the toony skirt she wore beneath the dark-colored skirt of her work uniform. She waited until just before noon to head up towards the floor Jennifer's work area was located. By the time she reached it, the Name Dropped had already vacated the area to get coffee. Cue the 'innocent' searching through her desk and the filing cabinets after their locks had been picked open with the use of that nail file's tip.

Miss Fancy learned that there was no need to come up with a plan to plant a little evidence. There was plenty of incriminating evidence right there without her help. From notes stating who had asked for promotions and who had 'convinced' her to send their requests to the V.P, to some of the forms that had never been submitted that were hidden away in the depths of one drawer of her filing cabinet. She was in and out of there quick, closing the drawers and scampering away before the Name Dropper could see a single strand of bubblegum fur.

She didn't report it in, no. That wouldn't have been enough. Instead, she turned to the gossip experts: The Minglers. If you give a Mingler dirt on someone, even give them a copy of all those pictures, they will go to town with it, and like any train of gossip, things would exaggerate the more it was told.

All Miss Fancy had to do was wait and watch the magic happen. And _boy_ , did it happen. A wild, ever-changing account on what the Name Dropper had done had spread across the company, and soon enough had found its way up to the head of the company itself. The next time the feline found her way up to the floor to hand off reports to her boss, a few boxes were set on the secretary's desk as she packed away her belongings. "Heading somewhere, Jennifer?"

If looks could've killed, Miss Fancy would've been little more than a splash of pigment on the floor at that point. "Downstairs." Came the bitter reply, hissed through gritted teeth. "I've been demoted."

"Oh, really? Whatever for?"

"Don't play innocent with me, I know it was you."

"Me? Aw, whatever would make you think that?" Miss Fancy feigned a look of insult, a hand on her chest and clearly not even trying to make it look realistic.

"Hm. Everything was great until you showed up. Then it all started going to hell for me. You're the only one I could think of that could cause this amount of trouble." Jennifer was circling around her desk and approaching. Despite the cog coming her way, the toon wasn't intimidated. Her hands rested upon her hips, tipping her head to look up at her as she stopped right in front of her. Ice blue eyes stared right back at Jennifer's own.

"I think you're just sore that karma came and knocked you off of that shiny pillar you parked yourself on." A metallic hand clenched, Jennifer's whole body beginning to tense. Clear signs of hostility and possibly warning of violence, but the coral cat would not back off. "You were rude, you coerced people by keeping them from getting their promotions until you got something from them, you acted all high and mighty and treated everyone like dirt, and you expect to garner sympathy or fear out of me now. I'm positively _quaking_ in my flats." Miss Fancy's voice was dripping with sarcasm and venom now. "You look like you're going to hit me, but I know you're not. You're nothing but talk, nothing but a head full of hot air that's now deflating because a pin popped it."

Jennifer took a step back then, caught off-guard. Her expression was still curled into an expression of undiluted rage. "For a toon you are quite a little bi-"

"Language, _Miss_ Jennifer. We are in a place of business, you should conduct yourself in a professional manner." The pink toon cut her off. She took the chance to step around the purple-plated bot, her shoulder checking the cog's side as she passed by her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't want to waste more of my time on you, not when I have a meeting with the V.P. Have fun downstairs. Toodle-oo." She gave a mocking wave with her fingers and turned back to step through the door that led into the area she had met the Sellbot boss so regularly. Up the staircase and to the platform that held her up to where she could meet him properly, she waited for him to make an emergence.

She wore a warm, pleasant smile upon her muzzle at the approaching rumble of treads. "Hello, sir." She greeted the Brobdingnagian sized cog that entered the room. "I have my latest set of reports." She said as she pulled out the documents. "By the way, I could not help but notice that Jennifer's going away. Have you found anyone to replace her yet?"

"No, I haven't had the time to hunt for a replacement for her. I'll have to have someone comb through the request forms and see about finding someone-"

"If I may, sir. While I was here, I was wanting to inquire about the position myself. I have worked here for a couple months now, Arthur can tell you how well I've worked for him and regular clients of his and those working under him will be able to back that up. Plus, it would make it easier when it came to the flow of information. I could hand off documents or tell you of events, concerns and the like with greater ease. _Especially_ if I didn't have to fight with another secretary in order to get an appointment to meet with you."

"Those are good points." The plaid-suited boss tapped the base plate of his head in thought. "I will contact Arthur and have him collect the opinions of your coworkers, have clear proof of your work ethic and capabilities as a secretary and make a decision within the next few days."

"Thank you, sir. Your consideration is all I ask." Her grin was stretched wider, brimming with joy and confidence in her qualifications for the job. She _vied_ for that job. Not only to spite Jennifer, but to keep closer to the boss and make her work as a spy all around easier. Her smile died down to the practiced grin, her body straightening up as she took on her professional demeanor once more. "Now, about the reports..."


	7. Deals and Discoveries

Only a couple months in, and she was the Vice President's secretary. To her, that was an accomplishment. Sure, it had taken climbing upon the shoulders of one individual to get the job, but it had been worth it.

She had gotten this high on the corporate ladder, had spied and gathered information, had made friends with some of the cogs and she hadn't yet garnered any direct attention of any toons, as far as she knew. She had heard whispers now and then when she went to do her tasks that focused on maintenance in Toon HQs, but she'd focus strictly on her tasks for a couple days until the suspicion had been dulled. There was a fine line, but she felt confident in her capabilities of walking along it.

It was her day off, a perfect day to chill and catch up on the news from the toon side of things. A gloveless finger tapped at the screen of the tablet, navigating to the website for one of the news channels and tapping on the live video.

"Miss Fancy, are you going to be alright on your own?" Came the inquiry from the cog currently getting prepared for work. She craned her head back, looking at Arthur while he was busy looking in a mirror set on the wall as he adjusted his tie.

"I'll be fine, Arthur. You ask me this every time you have to leave me here alone."

"Forgive me for being concerned, especially given the last few times when I've come home to find you practically bouncing off the walls because you decided to experiment with the coffee machine."

She opened her mouth to argue, before giving a small nudge of the head. "Okay, I'll give you that one. Still, though, I'll be fine. I'm planning on watching the news, maybe go out and see if I can find anything to add to another one of my reports."

"Do be careful if you go out." He was always concerned for her

"I know, I know, Arthur." She rolled her eyes, grinning as she nestled herself in the corner between the back and arm of the couch, folding her legs beneath her. "Have a good day at work." She felt the metal hand pat her shoulder as he passed. "If it gets slow, don't be afraid to call."

A metallic laugh was voiced, the Sellbot's head shaking. "As if it ever gets slow. See you tonight, Miss Fancy."

She turned back to the tablet once she was left alone, turning up the volume as the weekly forecast was wrapping up and the news started. The news anchor, a mouse by the name of Razzle B. Dazzle, was talking about the latest headlines. They were the same old thing, '_ Invasion began', the occasional toon attempting to steal something, 'Greener' alerts, a new shop opening up...

But one caught her attention. "One toon hospitalized after consumption of Thinner-laced potions". _That_ was new.

"Though little has been gathered from the toon in question, friends of the individual witnessed them purchasing these potions from a creature of unknown species and origin that calls himself 'Dr. Dilute'. Details are vague about the being in question, and it is unknown whether this is an active act of poisoning or if bottles were contaminated. Authorities have been notified and are currently investigating, stay tooned for further updates on the case as we receive them."

A finger pad tapped against the screen, shrinking the live video of the news and moving to the articles to collect further details. This 'Dr. Dilute' was a chemist, a maker of potions that could alter and change people in ways normal medicine couldn't. His place of work changed, a mobile workshop that was kept tucked away in the alleys and dark corners of the town. Not the proper conditions to avoid cross-contamination, so that could very well be the factor to his business. But _why_ did he have Thinner to begin with? That was one of the bigger questions stemming from the situation, as a glance through the comments beneath the article pointed out.

But Miss Fancy saw more in it than merely a curious mystery with a hint of possible ill intent behind it. "Sounds like it would be profitable if we could make sure his potions are safe." She muttered aloud. Potions that could provide alterations to the mind and body that were so fantastical...the Sellbots could cash in on that. Not so much with the toon currency of jellybeans, but with how toons raided the Cashbot mints so often and hoarded massive amounts of cogbucks, it would be a way to start returning some of that money back into the system and fatten the Sellbot budget at the same time.

She hit the button on the side of the tablet, shutting it off and setting it on the coffee table. "Looks like I found something to do."

* * *

"Nina to Base, she's left Sellbot Towers." Came the hushed voice of a blue-furred rabbit speaking into a walkie-talkie, watching as the pink feline tugged her coat tight around her and started crossing through the gravel-filled courtyard. "Entering radio silence and beginning pursuit, will contact when I have something to report back with."

"Roger that, Nina." She heard in response. She shut off the device and tucked it away in her coat pocket, the powder blue and white gear she wore for the cold providing a use in hiding her Resistance uniform. Casually, without looking too conspicuous, she followed after the cat. Nina kept a careful eye on her, the cat's attention focused on getting where she needed to go, not on whoever tailed behind her. She was confident, calm, not at all acting like a shifty sort. But Nina knew something was up with this one. So did the Resistance, that's why she was assigned to tail her to begin with.

Time to see what this suspicious toon was up to when she wasn't doing tasks.

* * *

The search for the illusive 'Dr. Dilute' would take longer than the afternoon and evening would allow. But she had found clues, primarily in the way of talking with people. Nobody ever saw the doctor moving about during the day, though some had seen a strange silhouette creeping past their windows at night. He took cover in alleyways and the dark corners of the town that toons didn't wander into often. Considering the recent news article about him, she wasn't all that surprised that he'd keep to the shadows.

She spent the night at her toony home, finding it closer than going all the way back to Sellbot HQ. She sent an email to Arthur, letting him know where she was and what she had done for the day, and slept.

Her investigation continued during her days off, when she wasn't collecting information to hand off to her employer. At first, she rarely noticed the individual that tailed her every time she went out, now and again spotting her but assuming it was typical. Toons looked alike as it was, and the town was not the largest place.

Gradually, though, as days turned to weeks, paranoia set in. The longer she hunted for the doctor, the more she began noticing her. She was being followed. She did lose her pursuer with the help of teleportation -as much as she hated using it- and her propeller pen if she could move quick enough to get out of eyesight before using it. It was a tricky game of cat and mouse, and she was not going to stand being the mouse.

She had lost her again with the help of a portable hole, and now alone she strolled down the streets of Donald's Dreamland. It was late in the evening hours, the dark skies of the neighborhood even darker now. Nobody was out on the street, the hour too late for any sane toon to be out and about. The silence was overwhelming, and to soothe the lingering feeling of being watched and followed after escaping her pursuer, it was time to check the news. Fishing the tablet out of her pocket, she flipped it on and focused it back on the news, playing today's recordings of the events. She dug back into her pocket, collecting a piece of gum and popping it into her mouth to provide another means of calming down. As she quietly chewed on the gum, her thumb slid across the video bar, fast forwarding until she reached the segment she desired.

"For today's toons, two more toons are hospitalized after drinking the concoctions offered by the mysterious 'Dr. Dilute'." The same mousy reporter spoke. "Authorities are advising toons to avoid contact with the suspect, and stay away from areas affected by his presence. These areas are easily identified by 'color draining corrosion'. If you see an affected area, please report it to the nearest HQ and keep away until it is given the all clear. Join us after the commercial break for further details about the victims." Then came the commercials. She rolled her eyes, idly attempting to blow a bubble with her gum as she tried to skip past them. While waiting for them to be over, she peered over the edge of her tablet, looking ahead to note where she was and when the next corner of the street would be coming up.

Distinct indents of grey on the sidewalk caught her eye, making her ambling strides slow to a stop. There was a 'pop' uttered by the bubble as it burst, her head tilting faintly. "Hm?" Curiosity had her ears perked and rotated forward as she followed the trail, watching it lead into the darkness of a nearby alley. It was silent, eerily so. Even the little jingles of commercials had stopped, and a singular 'beep' told her that the tablet just died because the battery was low. "Well then..."

Making sure she wasn't wearing any of her gum, she tucked it off against her cheek where it could keep out of the way. "Of course it's an alleyway. It couldn't be somewhere nice." She muttered out loud as she stretched the toony pocket of her pants, dropping the dead tablet inside and fishing out her notepad instead. She pulled the pencil free from its spiral prison and flipped the notepad open to a fresh page. "Just a quick report to keep the superiors happy, then I can get out of here." They'd be interested to know about this, she was sure. Not only could letting them know what to keep an eye out for help with the search and thus, a possible deal...but the substance alone was fascinating. She noted one of the corroded holes in the side of the building to her right, marking down what she was able to see. "What the hell kind of substance causes this? A nasty sort, whatever it is." Was it acid? She didn't think acid drained color like that. It was possible, she supposed, but she wasn't sold on that theory yet. It was corrosive, all the same and she could safely say she didn't want to get in contact with whatever liquid made that.

She stopped as she reached the corner, where the alley branched off into two narrow paths either way, formed between the border fence for the neighborhood and the backs of the buildings. The sound of glass clinking to the right had her peering around the corner. Little had she known that she had stumbled right upon the very man she had been looking for.

The darkness cast by the evening appeared concentrated at the end of the alley where he currently resided. The curtain of shadow was broken up to some small degree, by a flickering lantern and a set of toxic green eyes that shone like ominous beacons. From the combined glow of green and orange, she was able to make out his silhouette. He was a taller sort, clad in a...coat, maybe? And a hat. Possibly a mask as well, as his face was clearly of an avian quality with the beak she was able to see. He moved in a way that was wholly unnatural for anyone with legs, instead gliding and slithering back and forth in a way that mimicked the motion of liquid. How weird.

However, she froze as a low, distorted voice hit the air. "G̶ood͘ ͟e̢ven͢ińg͝, misś.͟ ̛Ma̧y ͡I̸ ̵h͠el͞p ̡you͟?"

Cue the internal panic of being caught, the feeling hastily wrangled as she stepped out and away from the corner, and out into the open. No use hiding behind the corner of the building now if he knew she was there. "Um...Dr. Dilute, I presume?"

"Ţh͜e̡ ve̸ry sa͡m͝e҉.̶" He lurched out of the darkness, a swarm of green lights seeming to disperse from behind him as he approached. They almost looked like fireflies but...weren't. She wasn't sure what they were. What she _was_ sure of was the fact that the approaching doctor did indeed anything resembling legs. Instead, he almost appeared to swim through the air, his lower half an oozing mess resembling tar, where the droplets didn't fall down but floated upwards as though they were helium-filled balloons. Very bizarre. "W̵h̕a̶t̀ brings̡ y̶o͘u ̡t̀o m̶y al̕ĺe͟yw͡ay͢?"

Instead of holding still before her, lazily he began to drift around her, circling and yet not hostile. "Seeki̢ng͠ ̧o͡n҉e̷ of̕ ̢my ̴t͘on̨ic̢s,̶ ͢p̧e̴rhaps?"

Not eager to join the several toons who had been hospitalized thanks to his wares, her laugh was admittedly tainted by her nerves. "Haha...ha..." She cleared her throat. "No, Doctor, though my being here does involve business."

"W͠hat͏ k̕i͠nd̷ ҉of͞ ̵business̕?̵" He asked as he peered over her shoulder. She didn't like people lurking behind her like that.

"A deal." She answered, her hands busy as she tucked the pencil back into the spiral prison atop her notepad and returned it to her pocket. "Some of your customers are getting ill, and that's driving away your clients. Those that I work with can assist. We can find and remove tainted tonics, give your business the chance to reach a wider customer base and improve your sales. All that those I represent want is part of the profit." She was putting this together on the fly. Not the best idea to most people, coming up with deals without planning them out first, but she had caught his attention. That's all that mattered. "We could even throw in a proper place for you to work, some place that doesn't melt under your feet...um...tail?" She hoped that the same substance that made up his lower body and his neck was the same thing that left those marks on the walls and ground down the way she came.

As he ended up in front of her again, she offered her hand in a handshake. "So, what do you say? Do you agree to the general arrangement? All the details can be ironed out with negotiations, of course."

His head was cocked to the side, thinking about the offer. He swayed this way and that, never lingering in one spot for too long. The constant movement was obnoxious, but Miss Fancy could suffer through it if it meant securing the deal. Finally, a white finger brushed against the 'chin' of his snowy-colored beaked mask. "Yo̴u hav͢e yet t̀o̡ t̸ell ͜m̕e ͞wh͢o ̀i͝t i̧s ̀y͞o̷u ̛w̡or҉k f͢o̡r."

That was a reasonable observation. If he was going to accept deals, he'd want to know who he was getting involved with. "My employers are the Sellbots, Dr. Dilute."

Instead of the reaction she expected, either cringing and immediate disinterest in the deal or a lukewarm response one would expect from a newcomer to the town, she found him zipping forward, his odd hand meeting hers. "Say no more! I'll gladly accept the general arrangement Miss...?"

"Really- I mean, great!" She recovered from the surprise fast enough, giving his hand a shake. "It's Miss Fancy, by the way."

She failed to note the long strand of dull purple that oozed from his neck, not seeing the drop that fell until it was too late to do anything. He had leaned forward when he had jumped on the deal, and that meant he was hovering right over their hands. It landed on her gloved hand, right upon the back of the hand. There was a sizzling sound as it ate through the fabric, straight to the pink furred skin beneath. The scalding, sharp pain had her yanking her hand back, her other hand gripping the injured one tight as she held it to her chest. "Son of a..." She hissed under her breath. It wasn't acid, but it might as well have been. Thankfully, when she'd look at it, the damage was relatively minor. It didn't eat through one side of her hand to the other, merely left a sore that would no doubt scar over.

"Ap͢ol͘o̶g҉ies,̕ Mi̧s͞s Fan͏cy҉. ͡Co̵n҉s̷id͘èr t̴hat my̨ s҉i̡gn̨at̕u̕re. ̢D͡o͜ y͢o̵u̸ ̀wi҉s͞ḩ ͢to d͠iśću͘s̵s҉ t̸eŕms͝ her̶e?"

"Mmph...no. Come to the HQ, we'll negotiate there." She answered, shaking her hand in the vain hope that it'd shake off the sting that still lingered.

He nodded, twisting backwards and heading back to the space he had been working in prior to her arrival. "A͟ll̶ow m͞e à ̛m͟omen̛t to҉ ͏p͢a͞c͢k҉, the͞ņ ̕wę ͏m̷ay͏ ͞l̴eave."

* * *

Funny thing about the portable holes: They were able to be tracked.

So, not long after the cat had thought to make a tactical retreat to Donald's Dreamland with the teleportation method, her pursuer had popped up afterwards. Being part of the Resistance meant they had certain perks in the ways of 'a base with connections'.

The cover of night and the plentiful shadowy corners offered the blue and white rabbit many a hiding spot as she followed. She was getting tired of this cat, of seeing her, tailing her...but there hadn't been much in the way of conclusive evidence. She took many notes, she spent a great deal of time in Sellbot HQ, but there wasn't any true piece of damning evidence Nina had gotten. She just need one thing that could say, without a doubt, that this toon was involved in some shady business.

She had seen her duck into an alley, prepared to take notes again. Chasing after this 'Dr. Dilute' again. What was her deal with this malicious madman hurting toons? She was practically obsessed with finding the guy, for what reason, Nina couldn't possibly guess. She watched from the mouth of the alley, seeing the feline venture further down and peer around the corner. When she stepped out, beginning to talk to the very man she had been hunting down, the rabbit took the opportunity to creep down the shadowed path and hug the wall. A gloved hand found her walkie-talkie, flipping it on and hitting the button as quickly as possible to limit the sound of static. She held it up, letting those she worked with hear the deal going down.

And then...there it was. That damning piece of evidence she needed.

'My employers are the Sellbots, Dr. Dilute.'

Nina was smirking, waiting until they stated they were about to leave before she slipped away. Once well out of earshot, she flipped the walkie-talkie on again. "Nina to Base, did you get that?"

"Every word of it."

"Good."


	8. Problems From All Sides

Dilute was a peculiar creature. A being of chemicals, there were no bones or organs to speak of in him. He was just a strange gelatinous-like mass that could mimic the feeling of certain materials. Like the porcelain of his mask, the plastic of his buttons, the silicone like feeling of his hands and upper body. Even his hat and goggles were made of the same goo he was made up of, they merely mimicked the material of what they were shaped as. Oleander found him intriguing. With Dilute taking one of the many unused room of the Underworks as his 'permanent' lab and living quarters, it meant that there was plenty of time to observe and record notes about their resident chemist.

Miss Fancy had held up to her end of the bargain, giving Dilute the lab he wanted, the machine that would check each bottle he made and state whether it was free of any contaminants. Clean potions could be sold, either for jellybeans or for the far more valuable cog buck. If there were potions that could do practically everything they could ever hope for, then toons would pay whatever they could to get them. Tempting customers with such 'deals' was one of the ways the Sellbots could pull in money. More money meant more of a chance to start repairing the place and improving security, and that would mean less attacks by toons. It would be a slow start, but with some good advertising and eventually a shop for him in one of the toon neighborhoods, they'd be raking in money soon enough.

While the chemist settled in, Miss Fancy kept busy with her work, as usual. Not only in gathering information and her secretarial duties, but in the matter of planning how to fix Sellbot HQ. There were lots of problems, from the obvious to the subtle little issues that were so easily overlooked. If her relationship with the general toon population soured, she wanted to make sure her place of work would continue to stand. Being the secretary of the Vice President, she was essentially like an assistant and adviser. It had taken time to understand the full scope of the situation. She spoke to him in the times when he was not engaged in fights with the toons, gradually softening his disposition with kind words and encouragement. Underneath the facade he put up, he was a worn and tired boss. He was a run ragged from the demanding nature of his job, his mind had to struggle to focus on the same routine instead of acknowledging the depressing state he and his headquarters were in. At a point, he had even revealed to her that corners were cut when he was being repaired, both to save money and resources and to keep up with the flood of toons that looked to fight with him. There was only so much help that could be received from the other branches before their well of kindness ran dry. The sad fact of the matter was, unless something was done, there wasn't going to be much left of Sellbot HQ at the rate toons were going after it. Miss Fancy wasn't going to have that, even if it meant she had to guide the V.P to choices or get him to consider options. Playing the role of puppeteer wasn't always a bad thing.

A soft thunk was heard as her head fell against the surface of her desk in frustration. There was _so much_ she had to look at and decide what were the biggest issues to bring up to the V.P, that weren't security. Security was the biggest, but there were other glaring issues as well. She needed to get out of the office, get some air, clear her head. With a glance towards her computer's clock, she noted that it was about time to clock out. Might as well do that, step out for a tick and head home. It was late enough at night that she didn't feel the need to change out of uniform on her way out through the various doors of the main entrance. Toons were barely out at this time of night, and the HQ courtyard was typically devoid of any signs of other toons...typically, that is.

This time, as her arm pushed open the door and she stepped out of the building, she was not greeted to the typical gloom of the polluted night sky. Instead, her arm lifted, shielding her eyes from the blinding light that shone her way. Icy eyes squinted, trying to see what the source was. Her eyes widened as the sound of a woman's voice, magnified by a megaphone, greeted her ears. "Miss Fancy, remain where you are and put your hands up."

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw two shapes. One a rabbit's silhouette, lingering too close to the light for her to see clearly. The other was a cat, who was jogging her way as she partially lifted her hands. "You're under arrest, Miss Fancy, for violation of the 'Anti-Cogism*' act."

She couldn't even argue, standing there dressed in her uniform. Panic hit her at the realization that everything could go down the drain at this exact moment. Everything she had done, everything she planned to do could be stripped from her in moments. The world around her slowed to a crawl as she stared, watching the detective approaching her, her eyes catching the gleam of silver as he pulled his cuffs from his belt.

Miss Fancy acted before thinking. Her hands dropped to her suit jacket, pulling at the pocket and retrieving her pen with a speed she didn't know she possessed. The incoming toon didn't know what hit him when she pushed the pen's button, releasing a stream of black ink his way. It sapped some of his laff and caused him to reel back, providing just the opportunity she needed to surge past him. She weaved and stumbled to the side as the rabbit tried to catch her, hearing the sound of gravel behind her as the bunny swerved to pursue her. The feline's fingers reached up, hitting the button on top of the pen, drawing out the propellers.

"Miss Fancy, running is only going to delay the inevitable!" The ink-soaked toon called as she leaped into the pit set in the center of the courtyard, using it as the chance to get airborne and keep out of reach of the resistance member.

"The inevitable? You mean being arrested for doing good?" Miss Fancy snapped back in reply as the propellers lifted her higher. "Here I am, not causing any harm to toons and working for the sake of research, and you're coming at me with handcuffs."

"You're working with Cogs!"

"And? Clearly you haven't bothered to look beyond 'Oh look she's working with cogs' to figure out _why_ I'm doing it." Miss Fancy began to drift back, away from the HQ. She needed to get home, get any important documents and necessities and transfer them to the apartment she was sharing with Arthur. She didn't want to lose everything she had collected and documented. "When you're ready to have a civil discussion before you wave around your badge and your cuffs, do feel free to contact me for an appointment. I'm sure I can pencil you in." She was gone in the blink of an eye, the polluted air doing a marvelous job at concealing where she went and how high she ascended.

Nina let out a frustrated sigh, her hands on her hips as she stared up at the sky. Unable to detect any sign of the feline, she looked back to Lyre. "You alright?"

"I got inked, but I'm good." The old detective replied, wiping some of the obsidian ink off of his face. "That went about as terribly as it could've. I swear, I blinked and I missed it."

"I know...I didn't know she could fly."

"Figures she had a way to bypass the portable hole tracking." He shook his hand in a vain attempt to flick off the ink on his hand. "Still, we should've had her."

"...So what now?" Nina asked as she went over to him, digging in her pocket and pulling out a tissue to offer him so he could get rid of that ink. "She's going to be on high alert now, and I doubt we're going to catch her off guard again."

Lyre wiped the black ink off of his pale fur while he responded. "You heard her. She said to make an appointment. I'll humor her with that, let her tell her side of the story...we'll record it and get more evidence on her, and I'll catch her then. Book her, toss her in the big house and that'll be the end of that."

"That's your plan?" The rabbit asked as she took the tissue from his hands, taking over in the ink removal process and getting what he couldn't see. He scrunched up his nose in a minor pout, but otherwise said nothing of her actions.

"If you've got a better one, I'm all ears."

"I don't, but-"

"But nothing, doll. Best shot we got, might as well take it. In the meantime, get her picture circling around the town. Let's make it as hard for her to get her biz done as we can."

* * *

Lawbot Headquarters, two days later.

[[Recharge Complete]]

[[Boot Sequence Activated]]

[[Primary Systems Active]]

[[Sensory Systems Activating...]]

Silence. Darkness. The cold of the frigid Brrrgh had crept in during the evening, chilling the very atmosphere of the already cold and sterile building. All of it was familiar, normal. The only thing that broke the quiet was the sounds of his internal systems humming and whirring.

[[Connecting to Network...]]

There. The entirety of Lawbot Headquarters network, right at his fingertips. Every computer, every security system, anything and everything that had access to the network. While the Chief Justice lacked the optics to see, he could practically see _everything_ in his headquarters. Reports were popping up in the corner of his internal display, filed and organized into categories. Notices of terminations for Cogs that had been destroyed during his recharge, court cases to be dealt with, recommendations for promotions, reports on toons that had gone through the DA offices, every little thing that the Chief Justice needed to know of in his headquarters. This was how he conducted business when toons were not interrupting court sessions.

An email was sent to him, not filed into the various folders like the others. An employee, a Backstabber, had sent in a report.

[[ To: The Chief Justice

From: BKST-0490332

Sir,

I was on my rounds in the 'Minnie's Melodyland' neighborhood and noticed this poster stating there is a toon traitor on the loose. -Attached image- Further investigation via local toon radio stations has elaborated. Subject is a coral pink feline, 5 feet 7 inches, 145 pounds, goes by the name of 'Miss Fancy Petalbubble'. She is reported to be working with the Sellbots. I was advised to report this information to you for your ruling, and what course of action to take. ]]

His brows furrowed as he reread the message. A toon, working with those miserable wastes of metal and resources? It sounded ridiculous. Why, in the Chairman's name, was the Vice President of Sales allowing a toon to work for him? Information? Desperation? He was always too soft, too weak...he shouldn't have been surprised that out of all of the bosses, the leader of the Sellbots would welcome a toon into the fold. Toons were nuisances, pests that needed to be exterminated, not welcomed.

[[ To: BKST-0490332

From: The Chief Justice

Thank you for submitting this information. I will handle the matter of this toon, no further action on your part is necessary. As a reward for this information, you will be bumped ahead in the promotion queue. ]]

After moving the employee ahead in the promotion queue, he focused on the matter on hand. There was a toon among their ranks. There was no real law in place to prevent a cog boss from hiring on toons, given there had never been the thought any of them would do it. But that didn't mean there weren't...other means in dealing with her. He reached into the storage center for Lawbot Headquarters.

[[ Storage Center ]]

[[Category: Black Boxes/Backups]]

[[Searching...]]

[[ Black Box for PRT-BLS Model #0000-0003 'Lestat' located. ]]

[[ Backup for PRT-BLS Model #0000-0003 'Lestat' located.]]

[[Category: Schematics]]

[[Searching...]]

[[Schematics for PRT-BLS Model #0000-0003 'Lestat' located.]]

[[ Production Line ]]

[[ Order: x1 (One) PRT-BLS Model #0000-0003, Toon Extermination Series, 'Lestat' model with uploaded Black Box recording and Backup for model type. Confirm order: Y/N? ]]

[[Order confirmed. Unit will be built and dispatched. Estimated time of completion: 2 hours.]]

The Chief Justice leaned back, fingers steepled. This 'Miss Fancy' would be dealt with in no time. Lestat would not fail a second time, he was sure of that. His personal project would not fail a second time. It was one little toon, he had no doubt he could make her 'disappear'.

* * *

*Anti-Cogism Act: A law passed in Toontown that makes it a criminal offense to cooperate, ally, work with or become friends with Cogs and those knowingly allied with Cogs, as well as research them or collect information on them for anything outside of the use of battle without explicit permission and approval of the Toon Council. While treason is a separate term from this act, they can go hand in hand.


End file.
